The Son of Death At Hogwarts
by JackBunjeeKiki
Summary: Harry's 6th Year at Hogwarts isn't going as well as he'd like it to. Slughorn, Voldemort, and a weird new student called Nico di Angelo all add up to a massive headache for the BWL. What he doesn't know is this is just the calm before the storm. Can Harry manage to trust Nico when he needs his help most, even if he doesn't want to accept the possibility of another life lost?
1. A Runaway Ghost

Title: The Son of Death… at Hogwarts.

Summary: The wizarding world needs Nico di Angelo to help defeat Voldemort. How will our Golden Trio survive? Contains Nico kicking ass.

**Booka: Hello! I'm baaack! If you're reading this, than that means you're my favorite person in the world right now! But, seriously, you should read my other fanfictions first. Guard Duty and Cigarettes to be exact, because this fanfiction contains my OC Crypta and nothing will make sense if you don't read both my profile and these stories I'm currently talking about. So, this one is about Nico being sent practically against his will to Hogwarts. It's another one of those fanfictions in which our favorite son of Hades goes to the wizard school and meets up with our own Harry, Hermione and Ron. I'm not sure if Nico's going to have a love interest in this story; if he does, she's most likely going to be Ginny, Hermione or one of the awesome characters in my head. So, read, review and, most importantly, ENJOY!**

"This font is speaking aloud, in English."

"_This font is speaking aloud in Ancient Greek."_

"This font is speaking aloud in the language said in the text."

_This font is thinking in English._

Chapter One: The Runaway Ghost

Normal POV:

Some days can really suck for a demigod. And Nico di Angelo, the son of Hades, was no exception. Glaring up at the cloudy sky as if it was one of his personal enemies, he slinked quietly down the traffic jammed 53rd Street, two slender fingers beating out a rhythm on the hilt of his Stygian Iron sword. He spared the sky only a glance as a fork of lightning lit the dark gray haze overhead, accompanied by hard bucket-sized drops of rain and the loud boom of thunder. "Hmm," the raven haired boy mused as unmerciful raindrops splattered his face. "Zeus isn't favoring New York City today." In a way, he was grateful for the rain. It washed away his scent almost completely, so the chance that a stray monster would find him had been downgraded to near miniscule.

Blinking the oily water from his stinging eyes, Nico ignored the curious glances people were shooting him. With his dark, gothic clothing and his pale, pale skin he stuck out like a sore thumb in the mortal city, but he didn't really care. After all, what did clothing matter when you were always getting into fights with hellhounds and hydras from Ancient Greek stories? He knew his dad didn't approve; he wanted Nico to appear as unostentatious as possible; in fact, the young demigod often thought that if there was a way for Hades to make Nico permanently invisible, he would do it, even if it meant excruciating pain on Nico's part.

The teenager stopped walking as he reached Paley Park. Because of the unpleasant weather, all the humans had fled the small public square, leaving Nico alone. He glanced around suspiciously and once he was assured of his privacy, he unsheathed his sword. It was a beautiful weapon, but at the same time deadly looking. The blade was pure black, the hilt silver embedded and the air around it seemed to grow colder as shadows clung to it. The teen thrust the sword into the ground, causing it to lodge into the sticky, disgustingly soft mud, just as lightning flashed a scar across the sky.

"Yeah, yeah," Hell's son grunted, pushing his sword further into the muddy floor. "I'm on it."

He didn't blame Zeus for being angry; heck, Nico would be pretty ticked off if the ghost of an arrogant fifteen year old girl was loose in his city. Hades was pissed too; the girl had been the daughter of a famous actor, had starred in many movies and donated ridiculously large amounts of money to several charities. She would be a very valuable addition to the fields of Elysium, if she would only stay in one place; the little tramp had been avoiding his best servants for over a fortnight, always managing to escape at the last second. Finally, Hades had had enough; he sent his son, who had never managed to lose a spirit in all his days, to track her. Nico had been following her for about two days now and in that time he had managed to convince fifteen other runaway souls to pass on, using different forms of persuasion and empathy. But as for that particular nuisance, there was no sign. He knelt in the mucky dirt, not that Nico cared really; he gripped its handle tightly, muttering words in Ancient Greek.

"_Show me their souls," _he hissed in the beautiful language. He closed his black, black eyes and when he opened them, the entire eyeball shown pure silver, gleaming with light. His senses reached out past the park, prodding the city. The throbbing of mortal souls and their life forces filled his ears, the flashes of light that came with it blinding him. The strongest signal was coming from his own body, the sound of his living, breathing power nearly deafening him as he listened for that one particular sound. Hundreds of thousands of live spirits beat a nosy rhythm in his head, each tapping out a different tempo, some slow and patient, others quick and energetic, each separate heart matching its owner's personality. He could feel what the spirits were feeling at the moment, anger, sadness, glee and excitement filling him up to his eyeballs. The banging, constant throb hammering in his ears, Nico couldn't help but wonder how he could hear the quiet, sometimes absent hum that came with a soft shine of somewhat dulled gray. But that afternoon, he did. The sound of a ghost. It was sweet, yet sad, a melancholy melody strumming like a harp, singing like a dove. A wave of emotions crowded his head, all of them negative and intense; despair, grief, denial, depression… Most of the telltale signs a ghost is in the area.

A small, slightly creepy, smile on his face, he blinked; the light in his eyes dimmed until they were black again. Walking purposely out of the small park, he evenly returned the stares pointed his way, icy cold sheets of rain lashing the skin of his face and neck. He nimbly dodged the spray of dirty water that a large red Chevy truck purposely sent his way, the icky splash instead hitting two teenage girls who had been walking behind him. The redheaded one let out a vulgar curse as the blond screamed at the driver "DYLAN!" Nico laughed silently in his head as he raced down the street, his feet kicking up splashes of water from the puddles riddled underneath him. So apparently they know that jackass.

Slipping quietly into an alleyway, Nico sighed with content as darkness washed over him. He contracted and rotated his shoulders as strength poured into his veins. He always felt more powerful when in dim lighting; it had to do with his dad being the Lord of the Underworld; not a lot of sunlight down there. The demigod pressed his hand against a redbrick wall with a black, looming shadow outlined against it. Sighing slightly, he literally melted into the shadow, his figure turning gaseous and black as his was only visible for a second before it disappeared altogether.

He formed inside the gates of a huge cemetery; as far as he could see there were many acres of land covered in depressing gray stones, some set into the ground, others lodged in it, each with the names of their occupants written in a neat, yet ugly hand. The grass was a disgusting grayish green, dull and muted, overgrown in most areas. There were several dirt paths crisscrossing across the cemetery, their origin from where he was standing, two iron black gates rising around him. He frowned and turned in a full circle; this gave him several advantages if combat was needed. One, he was now fully aware of his surroundings and knew there was no mortals around except for the few exceptions paying respects to lost loved ones. None of them noticed the boy who had seemingly stepping out of oblivion.

Nico could feel a sort of violent, but not unpleasant tingle spreading from his stomach to the tips of his fingers; he had felt this feeling before and he knew what it meant. A specter was near. A shiver racing up his spine, he began to sprint away from the cemetery's entrance, down the narrow path that his instincts urged him to go down. His hands instinctively formed into fists as he raced past a teenage girl, her little brother and their mother, all of which were wearing black mourning clothes as they cast him bewildered glances as he whizzed by. He winced as he felt their strong emotions of grief and regret flowing off them in harsh waves, but he only sensed them for a moment. He blocked off the unpleasant feelings, scowling as he caught sight of a lone figure, hovering in front of a gravestone.

Jaime Foster was currently in a furious state, fruitlessly attempting to punch a hole in the tombstone in front of her; of course, this had no affect whatsoever, as her transparent fists kept going through the solid rock. The only thing she did achieve was wearing herself thoroughly out. She glared angrily at her name written on the stone, her teeth bared fiercely at her failed attempts. If she had been alive, she would've been quite pretty. As it was, when souls died, they left their colors behind. Her appearance was presented in transparent shades of gray, white and black. Her glossy straight hair was a light gray, sweeping just past her shoulders; it had most likely been a fair brown or dark blond when she was alive. Her skin was a pale grayish white while her eyes were a much darker shade. Her face was sharp and pointed, with elfin-like features and a smallish nose. She wore plain jeans, a pair of expensive sneakers and a t- shirt of a nondescript color, the latter complimenting her slender upper body. She was one of those girls who were naturally slim, but not so skinny that she resembled a living skeleton.

Nico crept up silently behind her, somehow walking in a way that his feet glided across the grassy plain, making no noise even as he slid over a group of brittle sticks. It was another demigod power. It was only until he was close enough behind her that he could reach out and tug on her hair that he spoke, scaring her out of her skin.

"It won't do anything, you know." The voice was soft and strangely comforting, as if the speaker understood what she was going through.

Jaime was tempted to scream, but decided against it as she whipped around to face a teenage boy, maybe a little older than herself, fifteen or sixteen years old. For some strange reason he seemed to be staring directly at her with a curious, bordering on cold air; but that was impossible. No one could see her unless they too were dead, but this boy was obviously alive. And, judging by his choice of clothing, a little depressed. Black, baggy jeans, frayed at the knee and hem clothed him from the waist down. There was a beaded leather thong pressing tightly against his throat, a total of five beads wrapped around the thick material, each painted a different design and multiple colors, popping out against the other dull colors he wore. The long sleeved black shirt he had had a neckline that came halfway up his neck; no design or pattern was imprinted on the thin material. A long sword with a silver inlaid hilt and onyx colored blade hung from a sheath on his belt. The air around the weapon seemed to grow colder, a chill penetrating the already cold air, but this chill was one Jaime could feel. She had the feeling that if the boy thrust it into her heart, she'd have no problem feeling that either. An intricately crafted skeleton ring made from white gold and two black gems for the eyes adorned his right hand's index finger. A tiny diamond glinted in the lobe of his right ear. He was relatively slim but well built with a nicely developed torso, muscular arms and lean, sinewy legs. His white, flawless skin seemed naturally pale as if he spent his spare time in dark, damp caves by choice. His hair was long for a boy's, the raven tresses wavy, curling attractively around his chin. His eyes were almond shaped and large, with long, thick lashes that women would kill for. Despite their beauty, they were also very intimidating; they were a cool obsidian color, pitch black and looking directly at her. The boy's face was awfully handsome, with elegantly sculpted features such as hallowed cheeks, a thin mouth, a chiseled nose and an oval shaped, narrow head.

"It doesn't matter if you throw a tantrum," the boy continued, twiddling idly with the ring on his finger, gazing at her thoughtfully. "You can scream and rage all you want; it's not gonna change the fact that you're dead. There's no going back; you can only go forward. You'll have to come back eventually."

Jaime, wondering if there was the slightest possibility that he could be talking to somebody else, twisted around and searched desperately behind her.

"I'm talking to you, Ghost. There's no one behind you, so stop searching. And turning around would be great, really." A dagger appeared in his hand, seemingly from nowhere as he talked. He used it to clean the dirt from under his fingernails. The blade was made out of the same metal as his sword, black as charcoal and just as glossy. The chill grew colder and the air grew darker as shadows clung to the knife eagerly.

"Who are you?" Jaime was pleasantly surprised her voice didn't quake.

The boy smirked ever so slightly and she felt a shiver of fear run up her spine as he answered "Nico di Angelo; son of Hades."

"Hades? You mean the Greek god?"

Nico nodded his eyes sharp and alert. "Yes. Lord of the Underworld. King of the Dead. The Cold Man. Grim Reaper. The Soul Taker. Most people these days know him as the Devil. Call him what you want. I don't care. But to monsters and other gods, he's Hades. It has something to do with the moving of civilization. I call him Father or Lord." The dagger in his hand disappeared as he gazed at her coldly.

"So if he's the King of the Dead…" Jaime felt pretty stupid asking this question- "What does that make you?"

Nico paused for a moment, mulling the question over before finally answering "The Son of Death, I guess." Jaime noticed that his voice had a slight accent she couldn't identify; a soft lilt that normal people didn't have. Unknown to her it was the after affects of speaking Ancient Greek with his father so much. He was now fluent in the language. He preferred it other than English. He thought the younger language slightly barbaric in his opinions.

"Well, come on." Nico turned on his heels and began to walk briskly away, his footsteps as silent as the grave.

"Wait!" Jaime exclaimed as she flew (literally) after him. Floating next to him as he walked, she asked "Come on where?"

Nico glanced at her with irritation as he said "To the Underworld of course. My orders were clear. I need to convince you to move on. To leave this behind."

"And if I don't want to go with you?" Jaime challenged, tone sharp.

Nico didn't even give her a spare glance. He said simply, in a too cold, too strong voice to not be sincere "Then, if you refuse to go with me, you shall be wasting your afterlife in a senseless daydream, holding onto the false hope that you will one day go back to the life from which you came. Eventually, just like all wandering ghosts do, you will go mad from longing for something you cannot have, the life that you can never again have. You might even attempt to commit suicide, which I should mention, is completely pointless. One who is already deceased cannot die a second time; unless they decide to be reborn. The family that is waiting for you in Elysium will be sorely disappointed… You will let them down by not being strong enough to cope with the fact you are dead." He turned abruptly to face Jaime as he spoke. "Move on, Jaime," he murmured in a slightly less hard tone. "It's not going to do anyone any good if you stay here; trust me. Let go."

Jaime stared at him for a moment before she felt the tears blurring her vision, thick and wet. A sob lodged in her throat as she nodded silently.

"Good." Nico sighed, sadness lacing his voice as he said "Come on. We need to go."

********************** Oh, look it's a page break! *********************

The hall was dark and gloomy, with a grotesque throne seated at the front of the long, square room made of pearly white human bones. Its legs were made out of femurs, while the armrests had the look of calves. It was topped with a grinning, yellowish white skull, its teeth filed strangely to a point, its empty eye sockets forever watching over the frightening hall. The large, arched windows overlooked the Fields of Punishment, silky black curtains with embroidered patterns sewn into the material, the glass panes conveniently crystal clear, giving the viewer a perfect picture of the agonizing punishments that were inflicted upon the damned. The sky was an angry reddish orange, not the warm friendly type, but a hostile, bloodred shine that sent shivers down innocents' spines. This part of Hades's palace was supposed to appear cruel and intimidating, designed to scare demigods till they wet the bed. The rest of the castle was actually very inviting (except Hades's personal quarters. Now that's creepy.)

Kneeling at the foot of his father's throne of human bones, Nico heard him boom in his harsh voice in Ancient Greek _"Well done, Nico. You have done quite well. Jaime was a particularly hard one to track."_

Nico shrugged nonchalantly, but inside his heart soared with pleasure. It wasn't often he got a compliment from his father, but when he did, he felt as if Zeus himself had given him a chest full of golden drachmas. _"Thank you, my Lord. I did my best."_

Hades said in a distracted voice _"Yes, I'm sure you did." _

Nico looked up in confusion. This wasn't like Hades. He seemed… distracted somehow. As if he was thinking of a difficult decision. As he sat down on his morbid throne, Nico found himself wondering for the thousandth time whether he was even comfortable, despite the black velvet cushions. He sat stiff and straight as if he refused to relax, even in his own home. _"Should I go, my Lord?"_ Nico asked, wondering if he needed time alone.

Suddenly, his eyes came into focus again, and he stared at me, seeming to have decided something. _"As a matter of fact, Nico, Zeus happened to contact me yesterday. Brother requires a demigod to complete a quest for him. You see, it requires a demigod of a certain age, power and…"_ his eyes glittered ominously _"You're just the right hero for the job." _

Nico raised an eyebrow; his instincts told him a rat was near. _"Why can't Percy or Annabeth do it? They're more experienced than I am and it's been a while since they've had an actual quest." _

Hades sighed as he played with a crystalline ball he produced from the inside of his robes. Before Hades began observing it, it was completely transparent and blurry, made out of a beautiful glassy material. But as the Lord of the Underworld's eyes lit upon it, it clouded with black smoke, obscuring Nico's view of its contents. Eyeing his son like a particularly interesting science experiment, he said in an exaggerated patient tone _"Like I said, it requires a demigod of a certain age. Not to mention this is the perfect opportunity for you to make some new friends."_

Catching the irritated expression on Nico's face, he added _"I know, I'm a bit annoyed about the situation myself, but your uncle insisted. He said something about 'socially deprived weirdo.' I have to admit, he has a point."_

"_What?"_ Nico squawked.

Hades gave him a look. _"My boy, where exactly do you spend your free time?" _

The Son of Death opened and closed his mouth repeatedly.

"_In American graveyards and cemeteries, hanging out with the dead!"_ Hades scoffed. _"Apparently, you don't believe that is odd for a boy your age."_

"_It's not odd for a son of Hades,"_ replied Nico heatedly.

His father sighed again. _"The main point is, your abilities are needed for this quest. And you _will_ accept."_

Nico rolled his eyes. _"Yeah, yeah, I know the drill. So what is this quest you intend to give me?" _

Hades leaned forward, his long skeletal fingers gripping his throne's armrests till they turned white, the dark eyes he and Nico shared seemed to gleam as he asked _"Tell me, Nico… What do you know about Hogwarts?" _

***********************Another page break! ********************

Nico's POV:

"_So what you're telling me is…" _I said about ten minutes later _"Is that there is an entire race of magical mortals out there? Yet the gods never told us? And there is a particularly bad wizard who goes by the name of Voldemort, but no one ever calls him that. He started terrorizing wizards and mortals and gained power by turning to the Dark Arts over fifty years ago. But when he tried to murder a small baby named Harry Potter a.k.a. the Boy-Who-Lived, for some inexplicable reason, he died instead. Maybe Potter killed him. Maybe something else, some phenomenon of nature protected him. Whatever reason, You-Know-Who died or vanished, but now apparently, he's back from the dead. When we, the Greek gods and myths offered help, the Ministry of Magic, their government in England refused because we've had our fair share of differences in the past. We've been at war with each other. But now you're saying it's my job to persuade them that if any of us are going to survive, then we need to team up. I'm going to enroll as a student in the magical school of Hogwarts to talk with Professor Dumbledore, who's going to try with us to encourage the Ministry to take our help with open arms."_

Hades nodded, his fingers laced together neatly as he looked down at me from his creepy perch. _"Any questions?" _

For me, this whole thing sounded idiotic. I mean, we just finished the war with the Giants and the war with Kronos a couple of years ago and now we're volunteering to get involved in another one? Two wars were more than enough, but three? No, no, no, no! Not happening, man! England could deal with their psychopath wizards on their own. I was about to open my mouth to say so, when Hades interrupted.

"_I know what you're thinking," _Hades said seriously. _"Why are we getting dragged into yet another mess? But this is just like the Second Titan War, Nico. Mortals and demigods will be affected by this. Voldemort will find us all, eventually." _If possible, his eyes grew even darker. _"I always knew he would come back; he never showed up in the Underworld to go through judgment. But, now we're all at risk. You need to do this, Nico. So many people have died already. I'm having a major blockage in the waiting lines down here. If more people die, the death toll could compete with the Civil War." _

_Damn my conscience! _I thought as I said in a grudging voice _"Fine. But there's just one problem." _

"_What would that be?"_

"_I'm not a wizard. I don't know how to cast sixth year spells and I certainly don't have a twig locked up in my closet, if that's what you expect."_

"Hey!" cried a reproachful voice in English that called down from the far end of the hall. "It's called a wand, Death Spawn!"

I turned to see a pretty girl of around thirteen with messy dark brown hair tinged with red and large narrowed eyes of the same color march down the hall, arms crossed over her chest angrily. She was garbed in a white, traditional Greek dress with a triangular neckline, the skirt long enough to brush against the floor. Her face was rounded with a slender nose, long thick eyelashes and plump, bright red lips sported in a saucy way. She wore no makeup or jewelry other than a silver chain wrapped around her head, a glossy charm hanging in the middle of her forehead like an Indian bindi. The affect was the chain bunched her hair on the crown of her head into a raised pile.

I got ready to retort, but then I saw the humor twinkling in her eyes.

"Nico," said Hades in a bored monotone "Meet Hecate, the goddess of Magic."

At first I was a bit skeptical. This girl was the powerful goddess who bore Circe and sided with Kronos during the second Titan War? Weird…

To my surprise, the tiny immortal gave me a good-natured grin and hugged my midriff, seeing as she was about three heads smaller than me. "Good to see you, cousin!" she exclaimed. I hugged her back awkwardly. Yeah, children of Hades aren't exactly used to physical contact. We're used to people backing away when we approach, not tackling us with admiring hugs or anything like that. Sure, I guess people warmed up to me to me a little bit after the Great Siege of Olympus during the Titan War, but only a little. Like snow is a little warmer than ice.

"Nice to meet you," I said hiding my discomfort as I patted her back. Surprisingly, she was pretty strong and my ribcage was beginning to ache from her skinny, little yet lean arms wrapped around my torso.

Upon releasing me, I didn't wince and rub my chest like I wanted to. Number One Rule for children of Hades; never, ever show weakness. Instead, I coughed lightly and said curiously "So, you're going to help me?"

Hecate's oddly colored eyes lit up like a kiddy's at Christmas. "Of course! Now, let's see what I can do…" She slowly started to walk in a circle around me, examining me with her unreadable eyes. I itched to turn around and see what she was doing, but I couldn't; not while Hecate was doing her evaluation. But that didn't mean I had to like not knowing if she was going to attack or not. Finally, she came to a stop right in front of me. "Hmm…" she mused softly. Then, without warning, she leapt forward, stood on tiptoe and planted a swift rap on my neck, right under the right side of my jaw.

I felt my face burn red and I began to say "What -" when I felt a sort of tingling in the place her knuckle had touched. The shivering vibration coursed through my body; it wasn't painful. It actually felt kind of pleasant in a way. Trembling, I felt it; a sort of light brighter than any sun I had ever seen settling in my very core, my heart. It was more than a spark; it was a glare. A brilliant golden light. Magic. Words – incantations I never knew before popped into my mind. Suddenly, I was at ease; I was pretty comfortable that I was a wizard. Magic seemed like a second sense already.

"So, you want an old twig now, do you?" laughed Hecate, a nice rich sound in the dark and depressing hall. Still smiling, she reached into the bodice of her dress and pulled out a long dark gray wand, intricately carved and beautifully designed. "This is made out of wood of ash **(A/N Yes, ash is a type of tree. Not soot or dust or any of that crap)** and the feather of a phoenix. It's a powerful combination, fit for any child of the Big Three." She shot me a look as she handed it over. "I hope you take good care of it."

I nodded, eyes fixed on the slender piece of wood. "It's very beautiful," I commented as I took it from her grip and twirled it expertly between my fingertips. Almost immediately, black and silver sparks skipped out of the tip and shot into the air, blurring slightly with its muted colors. Grinning, I turned to the goddess. "It's perfect."

She smirked, a little sadly. "Good. I'm glad you like it." She patted my forearm and her gaze seemed wistful as she stared at the wand in my hand, giving me another hug and kiss on the cheek. She said in a serious voice, as different from the laugh heard only a moment ago "Good luck, Nico di Angelo. Take my advice though. Don't get too attached to the Wizarding World. All good things must come to an end, so enjoy this one." With that, she disappeared in a cloud of russet smoke, leaving behind the distinct aroma of nutmeg and cinnamon.

The sigh of my father bounced across the barren room as he said "Hecate can be a little melodramatic at times, but I suppose she is right." Frowning, he turned toward me. Pulling out a crisp gray envelope from the folds of his robe, he handed it to me. Because it was in English, it took me a little while to decipher it. When I did it read in a neat slim handwriting that I knew belonged to my dad

Addressed to Professor B. Dumbledore

Hogwarts Castle

West Wing

Office Behind the Gargoyles.

Scotland

From: God Hades, Lord of the Underworld

Hades said "Take this to Dumbledore as soon as you get there. Once he reads it, he'll know what to do."

"So," I began carefully "If this is a school, doesn't that mean that I'm going to need books and pencils and all that crap."

Hades gestured beside me and I turned to see a large trunk that was not there before. "Your school supplies. Cauldron, school books, parchment, quills, ink; the works. Your robes are there too. You'll be sorted into one of the four houses: Gryffindor, Slytherin, Ravenclaw or Hufflepuff."

"Ink? Quills?" I asked incredulously. "What are we, in the 16th century? And what's this about robes? I have to walk around wearing bathrobes?"

Hades grimaced. "It's an old fashioned school, okay? Some traditions die hard. Of course, Hecate doesn't help the issue at all. She thinks it's 'cute' that some things never change." He shuddered.

I had to ask. "Which house do you think I'll be sorted into?"

He fixed me with a thoughtful gaze. "That depends."

I wanted to ask that meant, but I let it slide. "So when do I go?"

The Lord of the Underworld thought for a moment. "Well, today's the first of September, it's around 3:45 pm, so… yes, you go today."

"Today!" I blanched.

"Yes, today. Go on; that is all." He turned away from me as if to make the point clearer that I was dismissed.

Rolling my eyes, I stuffed my wand into my pocket and turned to the fourth wall of the room we were in. The trunk was pretty heavy, but when you run into battle dressed in full Greek armor, everything feels light as air after that. At first glance, people might have thought the wall I was facing at the moment was just painted in different shades of gray, black and dulled green, but the truth was the wall wasn't painted. In fact it wasn't even a wall. It was simply a collection of shadows, swarming and churning in different patterns and designs. For anyone other than a child of Hades it would have seemed pretty creepy, but hey, we're creepy people. For me, it was the perfect place for shadow travel. Literally melting into the darkness, one hand holding the trunk, the other resting on the hilt of my sword that swung on my belt, I traveled to Scotland. For any of you who haven't shadow traveled before, I just wanted to point out, it's completely wicked! Melting into the shades, it feels like something wet and cold is trickling down your back, kind of like icy water down your neck. You're going so fast, you can't even feel the wind; you're just outracing it to get to your destination. And I took my first step into the Wizarding world of The-Boy-Who-Lived.

**Booka: I'm finally done! Phew, that's a load off my mind. It took FOREVER to get this on the damn computer. Finally. Anyways, hoped you guys liked it. I'm sorry if I take forever to get another update in less than a month, but I just started 7****th**** grade and I'm focusing on keeping my grades up since the parent teacher conferences didn't go so well. *Wince*. But, hey, what can you do? But I'm doing good in the general sense, but my parents expect my grades to be in the 90s since I read so much. So far the only classes my grades are in the 80s are Math and Social Studies. (Kind of depressing since I usually rock at History. I messed up on a couple of homeworks, so that brought my average down.) How stupid is that? I mean, just because I read day and night doesn't mean I'm some kind of genius, does it? Humph. Well, enough about that. Read and Review, please! I'm begging! I need reviews otherwise I'll starve to death! Save me…! **


	2. The Hogwarts Express

**Chapter Two:**

**Is He Really a Wizard?**

**Booka: *grins* Hey guys! Yes, this is me and this is a new chapter in my now favorite fanfiction I've ever written! I'm so sorry I didn't upload sooner, but I only got my hands on the Half-Blood Prince a week ago and my school had a lot of tests coming and ugh! I can't stand it! *Shudder*. So, I just wanted to say thanks to all the extremely nice people who reviewed. I've taken all your ideas into consideration and I completely agree. No more Author's Notes in the middle of the chapter and I'll make sure that my descriptions aren't TOO elaborate. Nico will also be very talented in all subjects in Hogwarts (it goes along with Hecate's blessing, if you didn't know). And to a question that a good friend asked me this morning, this is a heterosexual fanfiction so there will be no Harry/Nico. Not that I don't have anything against homosexuality, but this story is mainly going along the HBP plot line and if one of the main characters suddenly turned gay than it would eat away at the story line in my head completely. So, right now Nico magically appears in Harry, Ginny, Neville, Luna, Ron and Hermione's compartment. Guess how freaked out they are. *Evil smile*So, read and review and please enjoy! (Just so you know, Nico is 16 years old in this story.)**

**Disclaimer: I am not J.K. Rowling or Rick Riordan, though that would be completely awesome! But, seriously I own only the story, nothing else. **

"This font is speaking aloud, in English."

"_This font is speaking aloud in Ancient Greek."_

"This font is speaking aloud in the language said in the text."

_This font is thinking._

Normal POV:

Nico was only very faintly aware of the fact that he had no idea where he was going as he shadow traveled deep into Europe, having passed the Atlantic Ocean less than a millisecond ago. Shadow travel is so fast that it takes only an absolute second for the person traveling to reach their destination, so he had already arrived before he could register the confusion. As he formed in the unknown location, he was aware of two things:

The room he was currently in had six powerful life forces blaring their heartbeats into the open air, though it was slightly interfered with a bluish aura encircling the persons.

The smooth, young voice of Hecate was talking to him inside his head.

'_Be careful Nico,' _she hissed delicately, her voice echoing inside his head. _'The magic-folk are very superstitious. Don't do anything they don't like.'_

'_Hecate?' _Nico thought in surprise. _'What are you doing in my head?'_

He could hear the smirk in her voice as she answered: _'Making sure you didn't get lost, moron. Now stop thinking! You're scaring the wizards.'_

He frowned and turned to survey his surroundings. It was then that he realized he was aboard a train, the landscape behind the window whizzing by with weak but determined sunshine leaking in between a thick, intimidating chill that felt rather out of place in the summer. He frowned and registered the six mortals that currently held him at twig-point. Two, one male, the other female were crowned with long blazing orange manes of hair. Their skin was Caucasian cream colored, their features thin and European. The girl was slender and attractive while the boy was lanky and thin, obviously related but of extreme differences. They were of similar age, the boy around fifteen or sixteen, while the girl seemed to be late fourteen or early fifteen years old. The third person was also a girl with long dark blond hair streaked with light brown and a slim lithe figure, her small hand pointing her wand at him impressively. Her eyes were a silvery gray, so pale they could've competed with Crypta's (1). She seemed around the same age of the red-haired girl, but her colorless orbs were strange; they seemed distant and detached as if not really registering where she was. In her hands dangled strange multi-colored glasses, the other pointing a wand at Nico. A round-faced boy with short brown hair and nervous, but firm eyes stood next to her, his hand pointing yet another wand at a certain Son of Hades. He seemed timid, something that always irritated Nico in the past, but he ignored this fact for the time being. The fifth person in the room was female. Her short, voluminous brown curls framed her rounded head in a sort of thick, impenetrable curtain with large chocolaty eyes that contained a large amount of intelligence and (something that usually came with intellect) arrogance. The superior tilt of her chin sparked a flame of dislike in Nico's chest as he surveyed her with an impassiveness that seemed to irritate her. It might've been the lack of fear in his eyes that did the trick; they were now staring at each other with an even amount of disdain and displeasure that seemed to confuse the other occupants of the train.

But then, a soft, unpleasantly familiar humming filled Nico's ear and caused him to turn away from the girl's stare in alarm: it was the sound of a ghost. _It couldn't be, _Nico tried to convince himself in a panic. _I'm far away from the Underworld by now; there are no ghosts here besides the ones in my head. _But the dull gray sheen that penetrated the otherwise normal atmosphere was the same; the only difference was that the depressing, suffocating emotions were absent from the room. Nico turned to the source that emanated Death so chillingly and was stunned to find a bespectacled Living Boy in the place where the dead spirit should have stood. Appearance wise, the boy was average at the least. His messy black hair was cropped into a sort of uneven disarray, clumping into matted lumps and tangles hopelessly upon the oval-shaped head. He was slightly too skinny and could do with a few extra pounds. The boy's eyes were slightly too large for his face and colored a brilliant emerald that you couldn't help but look into. The glittering orbs were what drew most people to look at him despite being partially hidden by big, circular glasses. But the most unique feature of his physique was the dark lightning-shaped scar etched into the smooth cream-colored skin of his forehead. That was what alerted Nico who he was and why he seemed to ooze Death from every pore in his somewhat undernourished body. The kid was The-Boy-Who-Lived; he had been shot with the Killing Curse when he was only one year old. Who wouldn't smell like the Grim Reaper himself if he had come within an inch of Death itself? Beneath the layer of death that seemed to cake him, was the brilliant throb of life Nico had come to appreciate in the past few years. Instantly, Nico relaxed and stared grimly at the boy who now glanced at the others in confusion. _Interesting, _Nico thought distractedly.

******************************************Page break! ************************* ****************************************************************************

Harry stared drearily out into the chilling mist on the other side of the window pane in the large train compartment, oblivious to the warm chatter occurring in the room he was in. Ron and Neville were talking avidly about the current Quidditch cup and who was currently ahead in the game. Luna and Hermione were in a heated argument about whether or not some exotic, unnoticed animal in the Wizarding World really did exist. He didn't hear them however. He could only look out unblinkingly into the dark gray fog clouding on the glass, watching as his hot breath misted on the cold pane. He noticed only slightly that the thin cloud darkened; it was very little and only perceivable if one looked very closely. But Harry did notice that it became thicker and more potent, plumes of it sent spiraling against the rushing train. He frowned and shivered; the strange mist that had been plaguing Europe for the past few months was the aftermath of all the dementors flying loose away from Azkaban. The thickening of it meant something dark was around and he didn't like that idea at all. It splashed up around the metal body of the train, turning black suddenly in a dense dark soup.

"Guys!" Harry cried his voice high-pitched with panic, unable to look away from the window. He heard their voices falter and there was absolute silence in the compartment as the occupants stare dumbstruck out the glass.

Then Hermione asked the question that everybody was thinking at that moment. "What _is _that?"

No one answered because no one knew.

Suddenly, a thin stream of the black fog poured underneath the window pane into the compartment and pooled onto the carpeted floor of the train. It crawled on the rug towards the center of the room causing the inhabitants of the room to shrink away from the disturbing smoke. Harry glanced at the others and simultaneously everyone in the room drew their wands and pointed the small wooden poles at the spot where the ashy substance was forming. The foreboding brew seemed to bubble into a tall gaseous figure, actually growing into the shape of a human made entirely out of smoke. The teens witnessing the transformation stiffened as the smoke became living, breathing flesh. Soon a sixteen year old boy stood in the place of the black mist. Long wavy curtains of raven-colored hair fell in front of his angular face that contrasted heavily with his smooth, porcelain skin. He was slim but lean and obviously athletic, clothed in gothic garments such as a black leather jacket and ratty black jeans with chains hanging from the belt. A beautiful ring in the shape of skull was wrapped around his index finger while a small diamond earring twinkled in his earlobe. Surprisingly, the silver pommel of a sword stuck out from a leather sheath half hidden under his jacket. His glossy black orbs surrounded by a thick fringe of dark lashes surveyed the imposing group that held him at wand-point appraisingly. He glared at Hermione levelly when she suddenly turned to look at him with such hostility it was shocking. Harry had only seen her gaze at Malfoy with such undisguised venom; he wondered what the person had done to get her so riled up. Suddenly the intimidating eyes whipped around to stare at Harry with a mixture of shock and disbelief. In the next second however, his face smoothed and became a mask of indifference; the change happened so quickly that Harry wondered whether he had imagined the confusing expressions.

Then the boy smiled wryly and chided "It's rude to stare you know." His voice too was just as seductive and enthralling as his appearance. The words he said were uttered softly but clearly, his 's's and 't's more pronounced than any of his other letters, creating a soft whistling accent that resembled American and Greek combined.

Hermione, who had gotten over her surprise more quickly than the others, said snappishly "Well it's rude to pop into someone else's compartment by means that we don't even know!"

The boy smirked. "That's a good point. So… where am I?"

The witches and wizards in the train car stared at the boy. Finally Luna piped up. "You really don't know where you are?" She cocked her head at the demigod with an uncharacteristic display of curiosity.

"Nope," he answered, popping the 'p'. He turned away from the other teenagers and seemed to be extremely interested in the entire compartment.

"You're on the Hogwarts Express," said Neville.

The boy raised an eyebrow at him in surprise. "Really? Hmm. I didn't know the school had its own train."

Hermione rolled her eyes and said impatiently "Well, that aside, how did you get here?"

The boy snorted. "Isn't it obvious? I transported here magically."

"I've never seen magical transportation like that before," commented Hermione incredulously.

"There's a first time for everything," said the boy helpfully with a mocking smile.

"Not for me," insisted Hermione arrogantly. "I read _The Complete Works of Apparition and Magical Teleportation _by Nathaniel Briary. It describes ALL types of magical motion and it says nothing that looks like what you just did."

The kid shrugged and said airily "It's kind of a family thing. Me and my family, we're all born with that ability."

"Can other people learn it?" Hermione asked eagerly. Harry might've imagined it, but he thought he heard just a hint of jealousy in her tone.

"No," he deadpanned.

Hermione's enthusiasm dissolved into annoyance. "Well, why not?"

"I told you already. Only people in my family can do it. It has something to do with genetics." He turned away from Hermione, no longer interested apparently. Instead his gaze landed on Harry. They, unlike so many other persons he had met stayed on his eyes, not even glancing at the lightning shaped scar that marked him as a person supposed to be dead. The boy's head tilted slightly and he murmured, his enrapturing voice barely audible as he whispered, "Harry Potter. The-Boy-Who-Lived. I was not expecting you to be the first one I met."

Harry shifted uncomfortably under the piercing stare and mumbled, embarrassed "Yeah, well I wasn't exactly expecting you either. So your name is…?"

"I am Nico di Angelo," he announced. "I am a transfer student from America. I am here to learn the way of the average British wizard." Nico flashed a smile that wasn't inviting in the least. "And you are?" he asked turning to the others who weren't Harry.

They exchanged nervous glances and Ginny boldly stepped forward and announced clearly "I am Ginny Weasley and this is my brother Ron. The blond girl is Luna Lovegood and the boy is Neville Longbottom. The brown-haired know-it-all is Hermione Granger. (This was said affectionately)" Then she grinned warmly at him and said "Welcome to Great Britain."

"Scotland," Hermione corrected.

Ginny rolled her eyes. "Whatever."

Nico nodded at Ginny and thanked her. "May I sit?" he asked Ron politely, pointing to the vacant seat in between him and his sister.

The redheaded boy nodded grudgingly. Nico smiled coolly and he sat down lightly on the red fabric.

Suddenly Ginny turned to Nico and asked "You're not from England are you?"

Nico shook his head, avoiding eye contact. "I'm an American transfer student. I come from a, er, special school in New York."

Hermione's ears perked up, interested. "What kind of school?"

"It's more of a camp, really." Nico shrugged. "We learn all the stuff we need to survive there."

Hermione blinked. "So why are you here coming to Hogwarts?"

"My dad said that Hogwarts would be better for me than camp," Nico lied smoothly. "Something about making more friends and crap like that."

Ron and Neville exchanged confused glances, Nico noticed. He waved away their curiosity when he said airily "Oh, I never really had friends at my old school. He said that if I carry on like this I'll become a socially deprived weirdo or something like that."

Hermione asked "So who is your dad? You said he was a wizard, but what's his job?"

Nico shrugged. "He's part of a particularly large wizard company in America. I don't live with him or even talk with him much unless he has an errand or job for me to do." Then he frowned. "Which is often now that I think of it. I took my mother's name, so I don't think he really considers me as a son. More of a delivery boy, really. But besides that, I think someone's at the door." Almost as soon as he finished talking, the compartment door slid open and a breathless third-year girl stepped inside. Nico registered her life force which too pulsed gently with magic and life as the wizards and witches that surrounded him. The girl's magic was immature however and did not have the consistency as that of Harry or Hermione.

"I'm supposed to deliver these to Neville Longbottom and Harry P-Potter," she faltered as her eyes met Harry's and she turned scarlet. She held two scrolls of parchment tied with violet ribbon. Perplexed, Harry and Neville took the scroll addressed to each of them and the girl stumbled out of the compartment, dazed.

"What is it?" Ron demanded as Harry unrolled his. Nico looked on curiously while everyone watched Harry expectantly.

"An invitation," said Harry.

In elaborate, slightly over-kill script, the paper read clearly:

_Harry,  
>I would be delighted if you would join me for a bite of lunch in compartment C.<br>Sincerely,  
>Professor H. E. F. Slughorn<em>

"Who's Professor Slughorn?" asked Neville, looking perplexedly at his own invitation.

"New teacher," answered Harry. "Well I suppose we'll have to go, won't we?"

"But what does he want me for?" asked Neville nervously as though he was expecting detention.

"No idea," said Harry with a shrug. Nico's eyes narrowed suspiciously. He could tell Harry was lying; the subtle tightening in the boy's neck muscles was enough to give him away. It was a trait almost all humans had in common. But why Harry would lie Nico could not tell.

Nico watched them closely as the two teens exited the compartment. At the absence of Harry and Neville, an awkward silence filled the room to the brim. Ignoring the other occupants of the compartment, Nico took out a thin, dark green book. Hermione looked over, interested. There were several silver symbols printed in a silky, thin writing across the cover. To her annoyance, the whole thing was written in a foreign language that she did not understand. As Nico engorged himself inside the book, he remained alert to what was happening around him, despite how he seemed to have zoned out to the people in the cubicle. He heard them whispering as he read.

"He's going to have to get rid of that sword when he gets to school," Hermione's voice muttered. "It's against school rules to have a muggle weapon in the castle, no matter how medieval."

"That sword doesn't seem muggle-made to me," Luna said dreamily.

There was a short pause as the teens assessed that statement.

"Besides," Ginny said "He doesn't seem like the type of bloke that follows the rules, Hermione."

Said witch snorted. "It looks like dark magic to me. Filch will get rid of it before he even steps through the door."

"What makes you think he'll find it?" Luna seemed strangely amused by the entire conversation.

"Hogwarts's security has been bumped up since You-Know-Who came out of hiding last year." To everyone's surprise it was Ron who answered, murmuring darkly. "They have Dark Art detectors at every gate. They were talking about it up at the prefects' compartment."

Nico smirked to himself. _I bet twenty drachmae that the alarms will go berserk as soon as I cross the boundaries. _

"I bet every galleon I've got that he's gonna be in Slytherin," he heard Ron sneer.

"You really shouldn't talk about a person when they're in the same room," Nico slyly replied, glancing up from his book with a satisfactory smirk when everyone (excluding Luna) jumped at the sound of his voice.

The offenders', their cheeks burning from shame, said nothing and seemed to be determined to look anywhere but at him.

Time passed slowly and Nico watched uninterestedly as the sun, hidden by a thick, sullen layer of gray clouds, dipped underneath the horizon. It was around that time that Neville rejoined them. The absence of Harry was questioned and Neville answered that the Boy-Who-Lived had said that he would come later; apparently Harry had said he needed to check up on something before he could come back to the apartment. Ron and Hermione exchanged a dark look, Nico noted and after that, both seemed on edge.

All too soon, the train arrived at Hogwarts castle. Nico could feel the power of the magical wards as the railroad car passed through them. It felt similar to the sensation of breaking through a thin, flimsy barrier made out of paper. The demigod watched in quiet, hidden wonder as the train approached a huge, Scottish castle, built with tall, intimidating towers surrounding the keep and smooth dark stone that reminded him briefly of Hades's palace in the Underworld. Obviously, he did not dare voice these thoughts aloud.

By now, Harry's long-term absence was beginning to be fretted over.

"I just know he's gotten into trouble. I just know it!" Hermione worried angrily.

"Calm down, 'Mione," soothed Luna pensively. "He probably got sidetracked by something important."

"That's what I'm afraid of," muttered Hermione.

Nico said nothing about the matter, quietly musing to himself. He took a deep breath and extended his senses, prodding and looking for the one unique life force he would have no problem detecting. For him, it was rather like searching through a small pile of papers for the one important document he needed to find. _Aha! _Nico smirked subconsciously as his senses detected Harry's unmistakable aura masquerading as a ghost's. The thing that worried him was its location; the Slytherin side of the train. Why would Harry, a notorious Gryffindor, be there?

**Booka: Hey guys. I know it's short and I didn't get much done, but you try writing 8 pages of size 11 writing with certain people *cough-Mad-cough* breathing down your neck every minute of the day. Not to mention, my mom put a limited amount of time on the computer. One hour a day per twin. How messed up is that? She knows I need to write this fanfiction. Ah well. I hope you enjoyed. And you NEED TO REVIEW! Out of over two hundred viewings I only got 20 reviews. What is this world coming to? Anyways, bye. I hope everyone had a Merry Christmas and a happy New Year. So see you guys later. Happy reading. AND REVIEWING.**

**1. My OC Crypta, Immortal Daughter of Thanatos. If more information is wanted, I recommend you read my other PJO fics, Cigarettes and Guard Duty.**


	3. Nose Bleed

**Chapter Three**

**Booka: Hey guys and to make this very short, thanks to all who reviewed. R&R. **

**PS. Although HOO did happen, Percy (who will appear in later chapters ahead) did not lose the curse of Achilles, just so you know. **

**PSS. The rest of this story's POV will be in Third Person, which means that the narrator (yours truly) is able to read all the characters' thoughts (including Harry AND Nico). **

**Disclaimer: I do not own any part whatsoever of Harry Potter or Percy Jackson and the Olympians. Unfortunately.**

"This font is speaking aloud, in English."

"_This font is speaking aloud in Ancient Greek."_

"This font is speaking aloud in the language said in the text."

_This font is thinking in English_

**This font is an Author's Note.**

* * *

><p>As the wizards and witches in the compartment pulled their black Hogwarts' robes over their Muggle clothing, Nico was already dressed. His robes were a plain black, not lined with the colors of his future House like the others. Nightmare's (his sword's) pommel was hidden by the long, silky garment, as so was the several other weapons concealed on his person. He currently ignored the other occupants of the cubicle as masses of black robed students swarmed past the glass pane of the stall's door. The group of friends hesitated as they made to leave the compartment, seeing as Nico made no attempt or motion that indicated he meant to follow.<p>

Finally, unable to stand the tension, Ginny asked "Are you coming with us?"

Nico looked up and gave her a predatory smile. "No. I think I'll stay here a little bit longer. There are some things I need to get straight before I come to the castle."

There was a painfully awkward silence before Ron said dully "Ah. Ok, I guess. See you later?"

Nico shrugged. "Most likely."

Without prolonging the good-bye, the crowd of friends gratefully entered the train corridor, thankful to be away from the odd new transfer student that no one could pin down.

* * *

><p><em>This has got to be the stupidest thing I've ever done in my life<em>, Harry thought bitterly to himself. He had never hated Malfoy more than as he lay there, like a turtle on its back, blood dripping disgustedly into his gaping mouth, unable to move, let alone yell for help. He could hear the shuffling of feet and the babble of talk outside the compartment. _They're all headed to the castle, _Harry realized despairingly. _By the time they realize I'm gone, I'll be halfway back to London by then. Ron and Hermione will think I've left the train without them. _If he was able to, he would've screamed in frustration. _Fine situation you've landed yourself into, Potter, _he thought viciously. And now the last few footsteps were dying away; everyone was shuffling onto the dark platform outside; the scraping of trunks rolling across the floor and the loud babble of talk grated on his immobile ears as slowly but surely the train emptied itself of passengers and the luggage that came with them.

But then, as if some deity (or half-deity) had heard his silent plea, someone softly, quietly opened the door to his prison and slipped inside. Only being able to stare dumbly at the ceiling, Harry wasn't able to identify his might-be-savior until he heard the hushed, distinctive voice of Nico di Angelo.

"Come out Harry. I know you're in here."

Harry instinctively tried to call for help, but he was soon reminded of the fact that he couldn't. _How did he find me? I said nothing about Malfoy around him. He couldn't have guessed. _

Nico (though Harry couldn't see it) frowned. Sensing the-Boy-Who-Lived and his eccentric aura very, very close by, he knelt and felt around the floor. To his surprise and satisfaction, underneath his extended fingertips he felt a soft, silky sort of cloth covering a bulky, invisible form on the floor. He smirked as he pulled a silvery cloak away from Harry's hexed and bloodied body. With a quick flick of Nico's wand and a bright flash of red, Harry's mobility was restored.

Harry quickly sat up and wiped the sticky blood off his face. Standing on slightly wobbly feet, he looked sheepishly at Nico before realizing with a jolt that he could be killed by him at this very moment; his wand was nowhere to be seen.

Nico said nothing for a moment before raising his wand wordlessly. Harry stiffened. But then Nico said clearly "Accio Wand!" With a quiet sense of relief, (and mild foolishness) Harry watched as his wand flew out from under the compartment bench and into Nico's hand, which he then silently returned to its rightful owner.

Harry grasped it gratefully before asking "How'd you know I was here?"

Nico grinned humorlessly and winked. "That, my friend, would be a trick of the trade. Just be thankful that you're not an invisible bump on the floor." Then the dark boy frowned and raised an eyebrow at Harry's broken nose. "Who did it?"

"Draco Malfoy," Harry answered bitterly.

"I could mend it if you want."

Harry accepted the offer and watched as Nico, almost lazily, raised his wand. Now at wand-point, Harry began to rethink his rash decision; too late. "Episkey."

Harry's nose felt very hot and then very cold. He raised a hand and felt it gingerly. It was no longer throbbing; the skin was smooth and uncut. There was no break in the bone as far as he could tell. "How does it look?"

"It's kind of hard to tell; your face is covered in blood. Tergeo!"

Before Harry could blink, the blood was siphoned off his face and into Nico's wand.

"Oh, okay. It looks fine."

"Thanks."

Nico shrugged.

Harry stared at him inquisitively before bending down and picking up his invisibility cloak, which Nico had dropped on the floor. He didn't notice that the other boy stiffened when his eyes landed on it. _Damn Thanatos and his stupid cloak! _Nico silently swore. _No wonder Harry smells so much like death. Voldemort and his idiot curse plus the fact he has Death's cover. _

Harry struggled into his school robes, pulling them over his Muggle clothes and hiding his trainer-clad feet underneath.

Nico, after Harry finished, said sullenly "We should probably get to the castle."

Harry looked up. "Sure."

The two walked quickly out of the compartment before simultaneously breaking out in a run. They were both pleasantly surprised that there were a few others who had fallen back as well; the train wouldn't leave until all students had disembarked.

Walking along the dimly lit train platform, an uncomfortable silence fell upon the boys; for Nico, it wasn't the first. He ignored the tension, hunching his shoulders against the slight chill in the air and stared dead ahead, watching the unfamiliar lights in the night that he thought to be the castle.

Harry glanced sideways at his gloomy new companion; he wasn't sure whether he could trust him or not. _He did save your sorry __arse__ back there, _whispered a treacherous little voice in the back of his mind. _If he wanted to kill you, back there would've been the perfect opportunity. _

_Maybe he doesn't want to kill me, _Harry argued back. _Maybe he wants information on the Order of the Phoenix. He might be in league with Malfoy._

_ Than why did he undo the hex that Malfoy put on you?_

Harry refused to answer and shoved the rebellious thoughts to the back of his mind for the moment because they were at the carriages already.

Nico stared for a moment at the creatures that were attached to the luxurious carts. He had seen them somewhere before this; anyone who had ever seen thestrals would never forget what they looked like. The horse-like beings were near grotesque in appearance but at the same time majestic and beautiful in their own ways. They were extremely skeletal and their build was similar to a horse's; one of the major differences was the delicate wings with a thin membrane of see-through skin in between flesh covered bones. Colored a dark brown and clicking sharp, severe gray beaks similar to a hippogriff's, they peered down at Nico from there immense height with glassy black eyes that were filled to the brim with intelligence and unreadable emotion. There were two of them, with thin, spindly legs that shifted restlessly under Nico's intense gaze.

_My lord _said the first to Nico's surprise. _We have waited a long time for you._

_Mother, he smells like home! _said the small, younger one excitedly.

Nico reached out tentatively and gingerly stroked the proud brow of the first thestral, who shivered contentedly under his gentle fingertips. The smooth, warm skin was soft and unexpectedly pleasant to the touch.

"Ever seen a thestral before?" Nico heard Harry ask.

Dazed, Nico nodded. "They always seem to find me at home," he whispered more to himself than Harry.

"Hagrid says Hogwarts has the only trained herd in the whole of Europe."

"Who's Hagrid?"

"He's the gameskeeper and the Care of Magical Creatures professor of Hogwarts." Harry grinned. "He's a bit crazy when it comes to animals though." After a moment, Harry urged "Nico, we need to get to the castle. Now."

Nico reluctantly tore his hand away from thestral and climbed obediently after Harry into the carriage. As the carriage lurched forward from the little one's attempt to impress his master, another pause filled the wagon. Nico sighed exasperatedly; he was tired of being so uncomfortable around people.

After a small hesitation, Harry plucked up the courage to ask the question he had been brooding for a while. "Nico?"

"Hmm? Oh. What Harry?"

"I don't mean to pry, but… was that Dark magic back there in the compartment? You know, when you transported onto the train?"

Nico was silent for a moment before saying "It depends; what's your definition of Dark Magic?"

"The Dark Arts of course. The type of magic that Voldemort and his Death Eaters use."

Nico smiled grimly. "Then, the magic that you saw in the compartment was not Black Magic."

Harry stared at him for a moment. Anyone who looked could easily see the struggle of emotions on his face. "Fine. Whatever you say," he finally relented. Nico could tell Harry still didn't trust him.

They were silent for the rest of the ride. As the Hogwarts castle came into sight, Nico was amazed at its appearance. It was a magnificent, large Scottish castle with tall spiraling towers on each corner of the keep, with square barricades crowning their tops. It was made of smooth, dark stone that looked relatively new despite being as old as Hades had said. Despite being slightly intimidated by the elegance of the fortress, it held a sense of beauty that could have competed with Olympus in its own way; rather than luxuriously ostentatious, it was humble and cozy.

The thestral-drawn carriage slowed to a stop in front of the ridiculously large doors of the front of the building. The doors were a dark mahogany sort of colour and each one of the two was intricately carved with a strange type of seal. A cursive 'H' was engraved into the wood with a serpent, lion, badger and eagle all curling around the letter. Nico admired the castle a bit more before venturing into the hall beyond it, Harry trailing from behind. A large grand staircase greeted them, the stone a light honey color and smooth as marble. But perched on the stairs was a stiff, severe woman who reminded Nico uncannily of a female vulture. Her thin, slightly wrinkled face was pinched with disapproval as she glared down at the two latecomers. A thin, dark green witch's hat sat upon her tightly drawn bun of salt-and-pepper hair, while black serious robes clothed her tall figure.

She stared at them disdainfully before saying in a sharp voice that matched her appearance "Mr. Potter. Late as usual I see. And who is your friend?"

Harry said weakly "Hello Professor McGonagall." He glanced helplessly at Nico.

Nico stepped up. "I am Nico di Angelo, Professor," he said silkily as he handed her the envelope that Hades had instructed him to give to Dumbledore. "I need to give this to the headmaster. I apologize for being late but it seems we got caught up in a practical joke taken to the extreme by a couple of Slytherins."

The woman eyed him suspiciously for a moment before glancing down at the thick, yellowish paper. _Made out of parchment maybe, _thought Harry.

Professor McGonagall's eyes widened in shock as she read the paper. Her eyes shot towards Nico with an unreadable expression on her face. Anger? Anxiety? Fear? "Are… are you him?" she asked warily after clearing her throat.

Nico shook his head seriously. "No. He's my father."

McGonagall made a hurried gesture with her hands. "You must come with me, Mr. di Angelo. As for you Potter, I believe Ms. Granger and Mr. Weasley are searching for you in the dining hall."

Harry wanted to protest but he held his tongue as he watched the gothic teenager stride quickly and purposefully after the tense, hurried teacher towards the Headmaster's office.

* * *

><p>"I knew you were coming, of course," Professor McGonagall said quickly. "I just didn't think it would be so soon."<p>

Nico nodded as he strived to keep up. "Neither did I. Dad only bothered to tell me today."

McGonagall nodded. "It would've looked suspicious if you arrived any other day than the first. What I am puzzled about is how you managed to meet Harry Potter so quickly." She shot a glance at him that Nico couldn't decipher.

"Trust me, I was just as surprised when I landed in his compartment than anybody else's," grumbled Nico under his breath.

"Well, we're here," the professor said shortly as they came to a stop in front of a very large, gray-stoned statue, a gargoyle, which stood against the wall of the same color.

"Acid Pops," said McGonagall and the gargoyle unexpectedly looked up. After glancing critically at Nico through expertly carved eyes, the statue leapt aside. "You may proceed," it said in its gravelly tones.

Nico didn't bat an eye at the now animated, seemingly immobile statue's speech (on the outside at least). Instead he said to McGonagall as they stepped onto the moving spiral staircase "Very convincing automatons you have here."

McGonagall eyed Hades's son quizzically. "Automatons?"

"Yes," he insisted. "Machines that can perform actions on their own without any help. You know; the gargoyle was one. My cousin **(Hephaestus) **creates them."

McGonagall stared at him, bewildered. "Mr. di Angelo, I assure you, there aren't, nor have there ever been any automatons inside this school before. The gargoyle was simply activated by an animation charm."

Nico didn't seem worried about this. "Well, that's good. If there's anything I hate, it's automatons."

The professor looked like she was about to ask something when Nico said loudly "Oh, look at that. We're here."

Nico pointed at a purplish blue door in front of them with a polished brass knocker that led to Albus Dumbledore's office. Professor McGonagall stared at him as she knocked on the office's door and called out "Albus! You have a visitor!"

A thin, calm voice answered "Come in, Minerva."

As the door opened and Nico stretched his neck in order to see around the professor that was currently blocking his view, his eyes were greeted with the sight of the queerest room he had ever seen.

The room was smallish and not too large and, for some strange reason, circular. There were several spindly legged tables throughout the study that held delicate, silver instruments that whirred and puffed smoke gently on the smooth wooden surfaces they lay on. Portraits of previous headmasters and headmistresses were laid out on the curved wall of the room, all dozing (and breathing!) in their pictures. A brilliantly regal phoenix with gold and bloodred feathers stood on a perch next to Dumbledore's desk which stared at Nico with liquid amber eyes.

As for Dumbledore, he was a wonder himself. Garbed in long, brightly purple coloured wizard robes with golden designs and embroidery sketched about the fabric, he was the most oddly clothed person Nico had ever met (and some gods had an extremely… odd sense of fashion). Watery blue eyes with an intense, indecipherable depth to them peered at Nico from behind crescent shaped spectacles. His long hair and beard, completely white with age fell down to his waist and was stuffed into the purple belt wrapped securely around his midriff.

Dumbledore said in the same thin voice that had welcomed them into the room "Who have we got here?"

McGonagall wordlessly handed over the letter which Dumbledore then grasped with a blackened hand.

Nico's nostrils flared and his face went chalky in complexion. The old headmaster's hand seemed to be rotted and the flesh was black and decaying. He had known something was wrong with the room; the gentle hum of Death seemed to fill the air of the office; Nico could just make out the shadow of Thanatos lurking behind Dumbledore. The wizard was dying; slowly and painlessly, but dying nevertheless.

Nico said then "Excuse me, sir, if I am wrong, but you are dying."

McGonagall's eyes widened, but Dumbledore smiled as if he had expected as much. "Yes, young demigod. I am."

"How did it happen?"

Dumbledore's eyes twinkled with something akin to embarrassment. "Let's just say my reflexes are not what they once were."

Nico nodded.

"But that is a story for another time," Dumbledore continued. "For now, this meeting is about you. I believe you are the hero that Hades said he would be sending?"

Nico snorted. "Hero? No, I don't think so. I'm more of a delivery boy."

Dumbledore smiled serenely. "It says here in the letter that you will be staying at Hogwarts in order to negotiate with the Ministry of Magic, yes?"

The demigod nodded.

"Well then. As you will be masquerading as a wizard now, I think I must warn you not to use any of your… er… special talents around the other students. It might bring on unwanted attention and, possibly, suspicion. All of the staff know of your condition, so you don't have to lie to them about it." Then he said in an impossibly serious voice "Just so you know, most of the wizarding community are prejudice against those of your kind. They haven't forgotten how rocky our relationship has been since the war between us fifty years ago. But as long as you're in Hogwarts, you're protected from those biases."

Nico shrugged and sighed. It seemed that even away from Camp Half-Blood he would be an outcast. A demigod in a sea of wizards and witches. Will the injustice ever end?

"Also, as you are under the blessing of Hecate, you will be allowed to go into advanced classes of your choosing, such as Potions and Transfiguration."

"Which house will I be in?"

"Ah. Well the Sorting Hat will decide that." Here Dumbledore gestured to a rather dirty witch's hat that sat on a high shelf above his desk. Nico wrinkled his nose; the cap was dumpy and patched, the fabric frayed and delicate looking. He wouldn't be pleased to put that thing on his head. Still, he was curious. What was so special about such a homely looking hat?

Nico watched with interest as McGonagall pulled the hat down from the shelf and plopped it unceremoniously upon his head. To his surprise he heard a sly little voice say just above his ear "Well, who have we got here? A son of Hades! What ho! I can't recall a time when I sorted a DEMIGOD into a Hogwarts' house. So very, very interesting." Nico could feel the hat shifting into a more comfortable position on his head. "Well. Loads and loads of cunning, I see. Very intelligent too. Ravenclaw would be suitable… but I feel that maybe you deserve something a bit more to your status. Slytherin maybe. You have the wit and the attitude certainly. But there is much courage in there as well. Not to mention the dreadful ordeals you've gone through. Being the Lord of the Underworld's son can't be very easy, if I might say. You deserve some good friends too."

Nico stiffened. Everyone was always saying he needed friends. Now a hat was saying it as well. Oh, the irony.

"Hmm. I see. That could be very irritating. You would've done oh so well in Slytherin. Not a doubt about that. But I've this gut feeling. Oh well. GRYFFINDOR!" the hat finally roared.

"And thank the gods for that," sighed Nico in relief.

* * *

><p>Harry turned away and raced as quickly as he could into the open doors of the dining room. The Great Hall, with its four long House tables and its staff bench set at the top of the room, was decorated as usual with floating candles that made the plates below glitter and gleam. It was all a shimmering blur to Harry, though, who walked so fast that he was already passing the Hufflepuff table before people began to notice him and by the time they were standing to take a good look at him, he had spotted Ron and Hermione, sped along the benches toward them and forced his way in between them.<p>

"Where've you been?" asked Ron, startled as his best friend grabbed a chicken leg and began to devour it from hunger.

"We looked all over for you," said Hermione anxiously. "And what's that red stuff on your neck? Is that blood?" Her voice became shrill with concern.

"Don't worry Hermione," Harry soothed after he had swallowed a mouthful of dinner. "Nico cleaned me up already. I'm fine."

"Nico? Nico di Angelo?" exclaimed Hermione incredulously. "What does he have to do with anything?"

Harry put a finger to his lips. "I'll tell you later." He was very aware that Ginny, Neville, Dean and Seamus were listening in; even Nearly Headless Nick, the Gryffindor ghost, had come floating along the table to eavesdrop.

"But –"

"Not now, Hermione," said Harry darkly. "I should've put on the Invisibility cloak," he muttered as an afterthought.

Ron, in order to loosen the tension, said loudly "You missed the Sorting anyways."

Harry glanced up. "Hat say anything interesting?"

"Most of the same as last year, really…" said Hermione "Telling us all to unite in the face of our enemy, you know. Hagrid was a bit late too. Came only a couple minutes before you. "

"Dumbledore mention Voldemort at all?"

Hermione glanced at Ron. "Not really. Actually, in the middle of dinner, he excused himself and went to his office. He said he'd be back later."

"Most likely greeting Nico right now," Harry commented absentmindedly.

Hermione looked up sharply. "What do you mean?"

"As soon as we stepped into the castle, Professor McGonagall escorted Nico to Dumbledore's office."

"Why would he do that?" she asked.

"Most likely Sorting him in private," Harry shrugged.

"What did Professor Slughorn want?" Harry noticed how abruptly Hermione changed the subject. "We were too worried about you to ask Neville."

"He just wanted to know what really happened at the Ministry," answered Harry.

"Him and everyone else," Hermione sniffed. "People were interrogating us on the train."

"Yeah," said Ron sullenly. "All wanting to know if you really are 'the Chosen One' –"

"There has been much talk on that very subject even amongst the ghosts," agreed Nearly Headless Nick suddenly. The ghost inclined his barely connected head towards Harry so that it wobbled dangerously on its ruff. "I am considered something of a Potter authority figure; it is widely known that we are friendly. I have assured the spirit community that I will not pester you for information, however. 'Harry Potter knows that he can confide in me with complete confidence' I told them. 'I would rather die than betray his trust.'"

"That's not saying much, seeing as you're already dead," observed Ron.

"Once again you show all the sensitivity of a blunt axe," snapped Nick, offended just as three figures entered the Great Hall presently. One, Harry was pleased to see, was Dumbledore. The other was Professor McGonagall, and the last, looking more relaxed and happier (if it was possible for him to look happy at all) than before, was Nico di Angelo. The sudden appearance of all three persons caused a ripple effect throughout the room; uneasy whispers and murmurs were traded on all four tables.

Dumbledore laid a hand on Nico's shoulder and whispered something in the boy's ear. The new student nodded and strode purposely towards the Gryffindor table.

"Oh, no!" Harry heard Hermione moan to his right.

"What's wrong?" Ron asked.

"He's been sorted into Gryffindor!"

Harry glared at her. "Be nice. He saved my arse on the train today."

Hermione stared at him. "How in the world did he do that?"

"Tell you later," Harry said, closing the subject. Hermione looked as if she was going to interrupt when Nico arrived at the table, efficiently silencing her before she ever said anything.

The gothic boy smirked without humor as he sat down next to Harry. "Hey guys," he said casually, as if he had known them all his life.

Hermione glared while Ron shifted uncomfortably. The only one who seemed relatively friendly was Harry who flashed a grin at Nico as if genuinely pleased the Sorting Hat had placed him in Gryffindor. Nico's lips twitched as if on the verge of smiling for real… but then his eyes landed on Nearly Headless Nick. Nico's black eyes seemed to flare and Nick's silvery face seemed to ashen even more so if possible.

Nick opened his mouth as if to say something but Nico made a sort of get-away motion with his hands. Nick, trembling with fear, bowed deeply and all but flew away from the table to sit at the end of the bench, as far away from Nico as possible.

Hermione stared at the son of Hades. "What was that all about?"

Nico's eyes glittered, amused. "It's cute the way you think I'm going to answer."

Hermione harrumphed and turned away, nose in the air.

Just then, Dumbledore cleared his throat loudly as he got to his feet at the head of the staff table. The talk and laughter echoing around the Hall died away almost instantly.

"The very best of evenings to you!" he said, smiling broadly, his arms opened wide as if to embrace the entire room.

"What happened to his hand?" gasped Hermione.

She was not the only one who had noticed. Dumbledore's right hand was as blackened and as dead-looking as it had been the night he had gone to Privet Drive to fetch Harry from the Dursleys. Whispers swept through the room; Dumbledore, interpreting them correctly, merely smiled and shook his purple-and-gold sleeve over his injury.

"Nothing to worry about," he said airily. Harry noticed how Nico's lip curled back and how he snorted, incredulous.

"Now," continued Dumbledore. "To our new students, welcome, to our old students welcome back! Another year of magical education awaits you…"

"His hand was like that when I saw him over the summer," Harry whispered to Hermione. "I thought he'd have cured it by now… or Madam Pomfrey would've done something about it."

"The skin's dead." To Harry's surprise, it was Nico who answered, his voice laced with seriousness. "It won't be able to be cured. If something's died, it's died. There's no getting it back. Let's just hope it doesn't spread."

"Isn't there something they can do?" asked Ron.

Hermione looked nauseated. "There are some injuries you can't cure…old curses… and there are poisons without antidotes…"

"… and Mr. Filch, our caretaker, has asked me to say that there is a blanket ban on any joke items bought at the shop called Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes.

"Those wishing to play for their House Quidditch teams should give their names to their Heads of House as usual. We are also looking for Quidditch commentators as well, who should do likewise.

"Also, I am pleased to say that we have a guest with us this fine evening. Nico di Angelo has transferred here from his old school in America to learn in our way of education. I expect each and every one of you to be well-mannered and respectful and to treat him as if you were in his shoes." Here Nico stood and nodded politely to the round of courteous applause that ensued. He then sat down, ignoring the pairs of eyes still fixed on him.

"We are pleased to welcome a new member of staff this year. Professor Slughorn –" Slughorn stood up, his bald head gleaming in the candlelight, his big waistcoated belly casting the table below in shadow "is a former colleague of mine who has agreed to resume his old post of Potions master."

"Potions?"

"Potions?"

The word echoed throughout the hall as people wondered whether they had heard right.

"Professor Snape, meanwhile," said Dumbledore, raising his voice so that it carried over all the mutterings "will be taking over the position of the Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher."

"No!" Harry exclaimed so loudly that many heads turned in his direction. He didn't care; he was staring up at the staff table. How could Snape be given the Defense Against the Dark Arts job after all this time? Hadn't it been widely known for years that Dumbledore didn't trust him to do it?

"But Harry, you said that Slughorn was going to be to be teaching DADA!" said Hermione.

"I thought he was!" said Harry, racking his brains to remember when Dumbledore had told him this, but now that he came to think of it, he was unable to recall Dumbledore ever telling him what Slughorn would be teaching.

"Well that's one good thing," Harry said savagely. "Snape'll be gone by the end of the year."

"What do you mean?" asked Ron.

"The job's jinxed. No one's ever lasted more than a year…. Quirrell actually died doing it…. Personally, I'm going to keep my fingers crossed for another death…."

Nico raised an eyebrow. "That bad, huh?"

Harry laughed darkly. "It's worse, actually. Hopefully."

"Harry!" said Hermione, shocked and reproachful.

"He might just go back to teaching Potions at the end of the year," said Ron reasonably. "That Slughorn bloke might not want to stay long-term. Moody didn't."

"Besides," added Nico "Snape's part of the Order of the Phoenix, right? If I'm right, we can't really afford any more casualties than we can spare."

That statement had the desired effect. All three wizards fell quiet under the more serious idea of loosing anyone on their side at all.

Dumbledore cleared his throat. Harry, Nico, Ron and Hermione weren't the only ones who had been talking; the whole Hall seemed to have erupted in a buzz of conversation. Seemingly oblivious to the sensational nature of the news he had just imparted, Dumbledore said nothing more about staff appointments but waited a few seconds to make sure that the silence was absolute before continuing.

"Now as everybody in this Hall knows, Lord Voldemort and his followers are once more at large and gaining in strength. I cannot emphasize strongly enough how dangerous the present situation is and how much care each of us at Hogwarts must take to ensure we remain safe. The castle's magical fortifications have been strengthened over the summer, we are protected in new and more powerful ways but we must still guard scrupulously against carelessness on the part of any student or member of staff. I urge you, therefore, to abide by any security restrictions that your teachers might impose upon you, however irksome you might find them – in particular the rule that you are not to be out of bed afterhours. I implore you, should you notice anything strange or suspicious within or outside the castle, to report it to a member of staff immediately. I trust you to conduct yourselves, as always, with the utmost regard for your own and others' safety."

Dumbledore's blue eyes swept over the students before he smiled once more.

"But now your beds await, as warm and as comfortable as you could possibly wish, and I know that your top priority is to be well-rested for your lessons tomorrow. Let us therefore say goodnight. Pip, pip!"

With the usual scraping noises, the benches were moved back and the hundreds of students began to file out of the hall toward their dormitories. Harry, who was in no hurry at all to leave with the gawping crowd, nor get near to Malfoy and hear him retell the nose-stamping, lagged behind with Nico, allowing most of the other Gryffindors to draw ahead. Hermione had darted ahead to fulfill her prefect's duty of shepherding the first years, but Ron remained with Harry and Nico.

"What really happened on the train?" he demanded once they were at the very back of the throng of students spilling out of the Hall and out of earshot of anybody else.

Harry and Nico exchanged a glance, which continued to aggravate Ron even more so. Nico gave a jerking nod and Harry told Ron. It was a mark of their friendship that Ron did not laugh.

"I saw Malfoy miming something to do with a nose," the redhead muttered darkly.

"Yeah, well, never mind that," said Harry bitterly. "Listen to what he was saying before he found out I was there…."

Harry had expected Ron to be stunned by Malfoy's claims but instead, Ron, with what Harry was convinced was pure pigheadedness, remained unimpressed.

"Come on, Harry, he was just showing off for Parkinson…. He's sixteen years old, Harry. We've been over this. What kind of mission could You-Know-Who have given him?"

Nico shook his head at Ron in exasperation. "You really should take this more seriously. No one knows what Voldemort will do anymore… oh, come on; don't tell me you're scared of a little name too, are you? Me and Harry say it. Why can't you? Besides, this is war. Everybody's getting desperate. I wouldn't put it below Voldemort to recruit a sixteen year old."

Harry nodded firmly in agreement. "How d'you know Voldemort doesn't need someone at Hogwarts? It wouldn't be the first time –"

"I wish yeh'd stop saying tha' name, Harry," said a reproachful voice behind them. Harry looked over his shoulder to see Hagrid shaking his head.

"Dumbledore uses the name," said Harry stubbornly.

"Yeah, well, tha's Dumbledore, innit?" replied Hagrid mysteriously. "So how come yeh were late, Harry? I was worried."

Harry shot Nico a look. "Got held up at the train. Why were YOU late?"

"I was with Grawp," said Hagrid happily. He turned to Nico. "He's me little brother. Los' track o' the time. He's got a new home on top of the mountain now, Dumbledore fixed it. He's much happier than he was in the forest. We were havin' a chat."

"Really?" said Harry, taking care not to catch Ron's eye.

"Oh, yeah, he's really come on," said Hagrid proudly. "Yeh'll be amazed. I'm thinkin' o' trainin' him up as me assistant."

Ron snorted loudly, but managed to pass it off as a violent sneeze. They were now standing in front of the Great Hall's doors, which were now, blissfully, unoccupied. "Anyway, I'll see yeh tomorrow, firs' lesson's straight after lunch. Come early an' yeh can say hello ter Buck– I mean Witherwings," Hagrid finished, with a glance at Nico. Raising an arm in a cheery goodbye, Hagrid headed out of the Great Hall and out the castle doors.

"So, I'm guessing that's Hagrid," Nico said in the silence that followed.

"Yeah," Harry answered hollowly.

"Why the long faces?" asked the son of Hades.

"We're not taking Care of Magical Creatures," Ron croaked.

"Oh." Nico paused. "Is Hermione?"

Harry shook his head, forlorn.

"Well then. I see your dilemma. Well, look on the bright-side." Nico clapped Ron and Harry on the back. "He doesn't look like the type of guy to hurt anybody."

* * *

><p><strong>Booka: Two days! I finished this in two days! Yeeees! Oh, by the way, REVIEW! For the love of the gods, review! Seriously, this fanfiction has been out for who-knows-how-long and a grand total of 34 reviews are all I've got. Gosh, what is wrong with people these days? So, REVIEW!<strong>


	4. Of Angels and Prophecies

**Booka: Hey, I'm back again. But I won't waste your time. Just read the story! Oh and don't forget to review!**

**Disclaimer: I do not own any part of Harry Potter or Percy Jackson and the Olympians.  
>Nico: Yeah; that would be plain scary.<br>Booka: And you're not?  
>Nico: …<br>Booka: I thought so.**

**PS. I dropped the "This font is…" thing. It was confusing too many of my readers. Oh well.**

* * *

><p>The day after, Nico scowled angrily into his breakfast, which, on its part, had done nothing to get the son of Hades in his current mood. He was presently seated as far away as he could possibly get from the certain Golden Trio, as they were apparently known in the Gryffindor House, in the dining room. Already, Nico was beginning to regret his decision in even considering to come to Hogwarts. All morning long, as Nico began to explore the castle, he was hounded by the castle's inexplicably large population of ghosts. He had asked Nearly Headless Nick and apparently, the amount of dead spirits currently in Hogwarts was exactly 126. Obviously, Nico had not taken this news well.<p>

_If these nitwits managed to avoid death, _Nico thought savagely as he stabbed his fork into a sausage, _how many more have escaped the Underworld? Dad will not be happy when he finds out. Oh, gods, he's going to make ME do all the paperwork!_

Hermione however, on the other side of the table with Harry and Ron, was smiling with happiness and, if she must admit, incredibly self-satisfaction. "Professor McGonagall told me this morning that I'm free to do all subjects of my choice for the N.E.W.T.s," she told her best friends cheerily as she spooned gooey porridge into her mouth.

Ron snorted. "Tell us something we don't know."

Harry, though, was more interested in the fact that the Great Hall seemed less full than usual. "Has anyone else noticed that all the ghosts seemed to have disappeared?" he asked, confused.

Hermione's smirk suddenly dropped off her face and she frowned. "Mr. I'm-So-Frightening-And-Impressive probably scared them all off again," she spat, upset.

Ron rolled his eyes. "Oh, let it go, Hermione. He's alright. Besides, not even he could scare off all the ghosts."

Harry frowned. "I'm not so sure. Did you see how freaked Nick seemed after Nico came to the table yesterday?"

"Yes, it is all very queer," said a soft, detached voice behind them. Simultaneously, all three students twisted around to see Luna standing there, staring at them quizzically. She then slid over to sit next to Ginny, her eyes fixed on the strange wizard at the end of the bench. "He seems angry," she commented dreamily.

Ron rolled his eyes. "He's always angry, Luna. The day he starts laughing is the day the world ends."

"Don't exaggerate," scolded Ginny. "He just doesn't seem like the 'rainbows and sunshine' type. Is that so bad?"

"Well he doesn't have to be so rude about it. I wouldn't particularly mind if he was a bit more polite. If you're going to be so dark and gloomy, there's really no need to be so pessimistic," sniffed Hermione.

Harry shook his head exasperatedly.

Suddenly, Professor McGonagall rose from the staff table and walked purposefully down the side of the Gryffindor table, towards a certain 'dark and gloomy' demigod. Several hundred pairs of eyes followed her movement and the same amount of ears strained to catch her whispered words. Fortunately no one had hearing that sensitive in the hall, with the exception of Nico himself. He tilted his head, listening, before he nodded and answered, equally quiet.

McGonagall grimly handed him a piece of parchment with she then tapped on it with her wand, transforming it into a proper schedule. She then handed him the paper and warned lowly "Remember what Dumbledore told you about using your talents."

Nico sighed. "Keep them to myself," he repeated dully.

"Exactly." The teacher then turned on her heel and walked back up to the staff table, leaving Nico to brood over his schedule.

He frowned as he studied the pamphlet over. _I'm dyslexic. How can I read English?_

_ 'It has to do with the blessing, Nico,' _breathed a familiar voice in his ear; or his head.

_'Hecate?'_

_ 'Alive and well,' _the goddess confirmed.

_'I'd expect as much; you're immortal.'_

No answer.

_'Hecate?'_

No answer.

Nico snorted. _Figures. _

He stood and was immediately stopped from leaving by Madame Hooch.

"Yes coach?" he asked, as the gray-haired woman cautiously.

"Just know, I don't like doing this but Dumbledore insisted, as it is a rule for all new students, for you to participate in the Quidditch tryouts. There is a first year class for broomstick riding, but I doubt you'll be very comfortable when surrounded by eleven year olds."

"No!" Nico exclaimed. He shook his head rapidly in a panic. "No, no, no, no! I can't!"

Madame Hooch shook her head, exasperated. "I'm afraid you don't have a choice."

"But, professor, do you know who my father is?"

Madame Hooch shuffled uncomfortably. "Yes, I am aware."

"Then, you do realize what will happen if I go up in the air on a broomstick, right?"

The teacher cocked an eyebrow.

"I'll be electrocuted."

Madame Hooch stared at him. "You're joking, surely?"

"My uncle isn't known for his temper for nothing. Please, professor. I can't fly or swim ever since I found out my… heritage. I'll either drown or fall out of the sky. If I don't, well, then I just happened to get lucky."

"I wish I could help. But rules are rules. You wanted to interact with wizards and gain our trust, yes? Well, this is how you do it."

"By putting your life at risk?"

"End of discussion, di Angelo."

Nico watched, crestfallen, as the teacher exited the hall and headed off to her next class. In a sudden flare of anger, Nico tightened his fist around a Stygian Iron dagger hidden in his robes. He fought off the temptation to march straight up to the headmaster and demand a change of the rules. "Shake it off, shake it off," he muttered as he turned away and passed the threshold of the dining room to his first wizarding lesson. _'Hecate? If you can hear me, please try and talk Zeus out of killing me. Please? I was planning on having a nice, abnormally long lifespan if that's okay with you.'_

To his surprise, he heard, after a short pause, a grudging response. _'Fine. But you owe me, demigod.'_

************************************* Page Break ******************************* ******* *************************************************************************************

So far, the classes that Nico had weren't too bad. The Charms lesson was rather interesting and thanks to Hecate, he found that he flourished in it, as well as all the other classes he took that morning. He was currently heading off confidently from Transfiguration to Defense Against the Dark Arts. So far, that particular class was the only one he was genuinely anxious about. After hearing Harry's angers towards the teacher, Snape, he was expecting the bad, as most demigods usually do when confronted with a situation they are unfamiliar with.

He slowly walked towards the DADA classroom. He soon caught up with the flood of sixth year students heading there as well. They swarmed into the suddenly darkened room, taking to their seats quietly, obediently, as if, like Nico, expecting the worst. He knew that the Golden Trio was here as well, but not wanting to be scathed by Hermione's sharp and critical tongue, he took a seat in the back, directing his attention to the cold, dark-haired man in the front of the space. Snape's voice was rough and icy, with an ever-present rasp of anger hidden in the layers of sternness and not at all pleasant to the senses.

Nico winced as the growl grated on his sensitive ears.

"You have had five teachers in this subject so far. Naturally, these teachers have had their own teaching methods and priorities. Given this confusion, I am surprised so many of you have managed to scrape an OWL in this subject. I shall be even more surprised if all of you manage to keep up with the NEWT work, which will be much, much more advanced." As the teacher talked, he paced steadily around the room, walking around the perimeter of the square shaped area. Several heads were craning in order to keep the sneering professor in their eyesight.

"The Dark Arts," he continued "are many, varied and ever-changing. Fighting them is like fighting a many-headed monster, which, each time a neck is severed, sprouts a head even fiercer and cleverer than before. You are fighting that which is unfixed, mutating and indestructible."

Nico did not pretend to ignore the obvious glance that Snape sent his way. Instead, he returned it levelly and continued look utterly bored at Snape's reference to hydras. _As if he had ever face one like I had, _Nico thought viciously. _You'll never know how it feels like to fight one yourself, Snape. You'll never feel the exhilaration and absolute terror of thrusting a sword into the belly of one. Don't talk to me about monsters, Snape. I know._

Nico could not help but be suspicious of the former Potions Master, however. It was one thing to acknowledge the Dark Arts as an enemy to be reckoned with; it was an entirely different thing to speak of them with such a loving caress in one's voice as Snape was doing now.

The torturous lesson continued on, in which Snape referred to several nasty spells and creations of the Dark Arts including Inferi (dead corpses controlled by magic which sent a chill up Nico's spine. He had thought he was one of the only people on Earth who could control the Dead. Luckily it required a massive amount of power to order the bodies into action. Very few people even know the incantation, let alone have the power to do it) the Unforgivable Curses (one of which could incite Death upon the victim. How a mere mortal found the means to summon Thanatos, Nico would never know) the Dementors (despicable creatures which feed off of every unpleasant memory one has and forces them to relive it. Nico had seen them once before in the Fields of Punishment. Eternal depression was one of Hades's favorite methods of torture) and several other disgustingly cruel treatments.

Eventually, they actually got on to learning something that Nico already knew; he didn't pay much attention to the class. This, apparently, did not sit well with Snape.

The sharp rap of Snape's thin, long wand suddenly thudded on the back of Nico's head. He heard his professor sneer "Mr. di Angelo, if you insist on tossing your concentration to the window, I recommend Divination. But if you cease to waste my valuable class, I have no doubt that you'll be able to surpass to your sister's _honorable _reputation; after all, the only thing she managed to do was get herself killed, hmm?"

Nico felt himself freeze. There are not a lot of things in this world that could make Nico di Angelo angry. Goading him during battle is a waste of time; stealing his personal possessions aren't a big deal; but bringing up the subject of his sister and disrespecting her was one of the few that made it onto the list.

His face felt cold so he knew it had been drained of blood while the hand clutching his wand was holding it so tightly that he was in danger of snapping the magical instrument. Slowly, ever so slowly, he turned around and stared at Snape. If looks could kill Snape would have ceased to exist; that's how intense Nico's glare was.

"Go to Tartarus," hissed Nico quietly, so quietly in fact that only the offending teacher was able to catch the words.

Snape raised an eyebrow. "Is that a threat I hear, di Angelo?" His oily voice was high enough so that the entire class was able to hear him.

"It might be," Nico whispered, his eyes closed "if you don't respect boundaries, Professor."

Snape laughed contemptuously. "I didn't think you had the guts. My mistake."

Nico growled.

Snape smirked. "Take out your wand, boy. We'll be practicing nonverbal hexes and countercharms."

* * *

><p>Nico gingerly sat down in the common room armchair, his shoulder aching in protest and burning in pain as he did. But he pushed away the soreness; it was bearable considering what Snape gotten in return. The soft velvet was bliss when compared to the hard, rough wood he had been faced with in the following classes after DADA. Nico snorted and closed his eyes tiredly, pinching the bridge of his nose as he did, in order to release tension.<p>

He could feel Hermione's gaze looking at him disapprovingly as she complained to Harry across the room. She made no attempt to lower her voice, so it made it easy for him to hear every word she was saying. "It really was very irresponsible of him to do that. I mean, pulling a Flaming Hex on a teacher!"

"He deserved it," Harry said viciously. "Saying that in front of the entire class… I didn't think Snape could get any crueler and he just did."

Hermione sniffed.

"Come on, Hermione," Ron added. "Snape practically announced that Nico's dead sister was useless. That was completely out of line."

"What's out of line is attacking a teacher on school grounds."

"He started it first," Harry insisted. "'Take out your wand; we're practicing nonverbal hexes'," Harry mimicked, "It was an excuse to bully Nico."

Hermione rolled her eyes. "That's completely unreasonable."

Nico rolled his eyes underneath his closed lids and blocked out the 'private' conversation. He could hear others whispering about him in the back of the living space which was making it hard to relax. His shoulder throbbed in complaint.

"…only ever seen him treat Harry that way…"

"…hates all Gryffindors… be surprised if he didn't…"

"…say he's got a sword… wonder if he ever…"

"…against the rules… no way possible…"

"I would appreciate it if everyone would just stop talking about me," Nico said loudly in exasperation as he glared from one pink face to another. The whispers stopped almost immediately. Sighing, the tired demigod relaxed and his eyelids slipped down once more.

But then, a high pitched scream came from the girl's dormitory followed by a shrieking sixth year girl – Laura? Lottie? Nico couldn't remember her name – shouting at the top of her lungs. She grabbed onto a pretty Indian girl with dark skin and eyes and yelled "Peeves is in the girl's rooms!"

Silence ensued, broken only by the 'whoosh' noise of the drawing of wands.

"Is he following you?" asked a black boy with a slightly crooked mouth.

"I don't know," responded the frightened girl – Lily? Layla? Nico was getting really annoyed.

"Who's Peeves?" he asked loudly. No one replied.

It was only when a squat, flabby-faced man floating upside down and laughing horribly swept into the room that Nico knew exactly what was going on.

The disgusting little ghost glanced at Nico and promptly turned a shade of bright purple. Spluttering out half-formed words, he barely had time to duck before a silent curse was sent his way.

Confused and alarmed students watched as a rage-contorted Nico roared "Get out! Get out, you beast!"

Peeves stuttered and dodged another hex that Nico sent soaring his way.

"Damn you!" the sixteen year old shouted.

"I, I, I'm so sorry," managed the spirit before a well-aimed spell sent him crashing into the back wall of the common room.

"GET OUT!"

Peeves wasted no time in flying out of there as fast as he could.

Nico stood there for a moment, breathing hard and ragged before sinking into his chair with a loud moan. _Why, why Fates, did this school have to have a poltergeist? Why?_

_'What exactly do you think you're doing?' _The irritated voice of Hecate suddenly resonated through Nico's mind.

Jumping in surprise, Nico started and then, under curious eyes, leaned back, disgruntled. _'What is it Hecate? Can't you see I'm a little busy at the moment?_

A dry laugh replied. _'Busy? Ha! Busy wasting time, more like it.'_

_ 'Well, what do you expect me to do? I just took a full on curse to the shoulder capsule,' _Nico asked angrily.

_'Which you would've been able to dodge if you had listened to me,' _the goddess argued back.

Nico was stunned. _'What do you mean 'if you had listened to me'? You said nothing throughout the entire fight!'_

There was an unpleasant sound in response that sounded like a mixture of a raspberry and a snort. _'Sure I did. You just didn't hear. I was influencing your magical instincts. You just went with your head instead of your gut. Next time, listen to your impulses and stay alert. _Then _you'll be able to call yourself a wizard. If that had been a real fight you'd be in Hades right about now. But, I'm not here about that. I'm here to tell you to get off your lazy butt and get to work!'_

_ 'Has anyone ever told you that you make no sense whatsoever?'_

_ 'Frequently. Why?'_

_ '…'_

_ 'Nico!'_

_ 'Just… Never mind.'_

_ 'Oh, okay, you wanna go there. Just find the oracle, half-blood and for the love of Zeus stop criticizing me!'_

_ 'Oracle? Wait, what oracle? I thought the only foreteller we have was Rachel!'_

_ 'The wizards have their own oracle counterpart, Nico. You have to find her. Here's a hint; she's a teacher. Now go and get the prophecy!'_

_ 'What ARE you talking about?'_

No answer.

_'Hecate?'_

Nothing.

"Arrgh," Nico groaned aloud and slammed the heel of his hand into his forehead, accidentally drawing attention to himself.

'_She's a teacher,' Hecate had said._

Hermione turned as she felt a rough tap on her shoulder. As she turned to face the tapper, she was unpleasantly surprised to face a scowling Nico di Angelo.

"What do you want?" asked Hermione shortly.

"Who's the Divination teacher?"

Hermione stared; she must have heard wrong. "What?"

Nico glared angrily at her. "Who is the Divination teacher?" His voice was slow and irritating, like he was speaking to a toddler.

This time, it was Harry who responded. "Professor Trelawney or Firenze?"

The demigod glanced at him. "Which one is which?"

"Professor Trelawney's a fraud," said Hermione before Harry could get a word in. "While Firenze is a centaur from the Forest."

"Where can I find Professor Trelawney?"

"Didn't you hear me?" asked Hermione, her tone annoyed. "Professor Trelawney is a fraud. She's useless; prodigal; a waste."

"I heard what you said," Nico replied. "I just didn't listen. Where is she?"

"She might be in the Northern Tower," said Harry, shifting uncomfortably. "That's where she teaches."

"Can you take me there?"

* * *

><p>As Harry, Hermione and Nico walked up the seemingly endless staircase that led up to the top of the tower, all had silently agreed not to speak. This, apparently, was a onetime deal and the acquaintance would end as soon as Nico got what he needed, which Hermione and Harry were still blissfully unaware of. They soon arrived, and Hermione plain out refused to go farther than the trapdoor. Nico had no doubt that the fuzzy-headed girl would be eavesdropping outside until they came out. But these angry thoughts disintegrated into hidden surprise as they entered the room.<p>

Professor Trelawney's classroom was, in short, one of the most abnormal places he had ever been in. Small circular tables with black metal chairs and glossy, transparent orbs made out of some iridescent glass filled almost the entire room completely. Red velvet rugs and carpets were thrown randomly across the dusty floor. There was a soot-stained fireplace in the corner of the room with a cauldron of boiling water placed on a spit above it. A large, cabinet-like display of teacups and kettles took up an entire wall of the large area. Brilliantly colored decorations and streamers hung from the ceiling, some an eye-popping (and aching) shade of magenta; others pale baby blues; while some still were a dark bottle green. The place smelled queerly of a mixture of potent sherry wine, honey and sugared tea.

Odder still was the shawl-and-sash draped figure that sat at one of the tables, staring intently into one of the glass balls, muttering incoherently to herself in an almost insane fashion. Nico felt his spirits sink; the professor was so flamboyantly and purposefully conspicuously decked that it was almost comical. Was this her way of looking professional? By being so stereotypical that people were forced to take her seriously in fear of showing any disrespect to her chosen wardrobe? Rachel usually wore paint-splattered jeans and baggy t-shirts that didn't even attract criticism. This woman was obviously her polar opposite then in the world of oracles; the woman's hair was capacious and frizzy, the light brown color of runny honey; long, ridiculous chains of medallions, beads and charms that most likely didn't work hung from her scrawny neck. Her figure was skeletal and thin, emphasized by the oversized multi-layered and multi-dyed shawls and cloaks that she sported. She had an almost too pointy face and high forehead. And worst of all she wore these huge goggle-like glasses that made her eyes seem larger than life and ogle at whoever she looked towards.

Professor Trelawney looked up with a dramatic fling of the head that caused Nico to groan silently to himself.

"Why, helloooo children!" cooed Trelawney. "Harry! How delightful of you to drop by! What could have brought such a pleasant surprise on? Would you like a reading, perhaps?"

The-Boy-Who-Lived looked pointedly at Nico. "My, um, friend here wanted to speak with you."

Her wild, huge eyes settled on the boy next to Harry and a wrinkled smile flitted across her face. "Ah, who have we got here?"

The boy muttered under his breath and the Professor barely managed to make out the words "Nico di Angelo."

"Oh, such a nice name!" cried Trelawney. "Did you know that Angelo means angel in Italian?"

Nico forced a smile onto his face which didn't want to obey. "I've heard." _If you really knew what I am, then I guarantee you'd never, in a million years, compare me to an angel._

Harry glanced nervously from face to face before coughing gently and saying "Er, I'll just –"

"Oh, don't be silly Harry!" chirped the professor. "Join us, join us. I insist!"

They all sat down at the cramped little table and Trelawney adjusted her shawls around her melodramatically before saying in a hushed, overkill whisper "Now. What is it that you seek?"

Nico sighed and was about to answer that he was rethinking this and that there was no point in staying any longer when suddenly the teacher tensed. Her entire seized up unexpectedly and tremors raked her body, her eyes wider than ever. Harry stared in alarm, while Nico looked on in interest.

Her jaw opened and out came a hoarse, rasping voice that was not her own. But it was the words that excited Nico.

"_Two fangs bared in the stony black night  
>The serpent slithers forward; beware of its bite<br>Poison flows from the deepest pit  
>Its antidote flows from the tallow's drip<br>Dark dull thuds fall upon the stair  
>Terrible news the cloaked man bears<br>Dead black voids of one's lost love  
>Find answers in Elysium with the ones of the dove<br>Magic and gods, work together they must  
>Else time turns back and falls to dust."<em>

Nico grinned; he had found the prophecy.

**Booka: Yeah, I now. It's not my best work, but I really wanted to update. So, what do ya think? Please, please, PLEASE review! I cannot express how important that is. Otherwise I might discontinue this story! Okay? So REVIEW!**


	5. An Arm or a Foot?

**Disclaimer: I do not own any part of Percy Jackson and the Olympians or Harry Potter by Rick Riordan and J.K. Rowling.**

**Review.**

Harry stared at Nico's grinning face incredulously.

"What?" the son of Hades asked, a cold smirk twisting his mouth.

Just as they began to talk, Professor Trelawney came to with a quick shake of the head. Blinking her gigantic eyes, she seemed to slip back into focus before smiling and saying "Sorry. I must have drifted off for a bit. Where were we?"

Nico's impish smirk grew icier. "Oh, I believe I have what I need. I cannot thank you enough, Professor." With that he stood and glided quietly over to the trapdoor, opening it and revealing an eavesdropping Hermione in the process. Hermione flushed bright red.

"Excuse me," said Nico as he brushed by the stunned girl on the ladder; Harry soon followed.

Hermione grabbed onto her friend's sleeve. "What was _that _about?" she hissed, her eyes straying to Nico, who was quickly loping down the hall.

Harry sighed. "Well, it's obvious isn't it? Professor Trelawney just predicted Nico's future in the form of a prophecy. Just like she did mine before I was born."

The bushy-haired girl breathed in between her teeth. "I heard. Nico was seeking her out. That means that he knows that she's a seer. He _wanted_ a prophecy."

Harry stared at her. "Why on Earth would he want one? The one she gave me ruined my life."

"I don't know; Divination is a tricky business and it's very often incorrect. The exception is prophecies; they always come true and I mean _always. _You can't change them. I was reading up on it ever since you told Ron and me about… well, you know."

"The prophecy predicting the death of either me or Voldemort," Harry said hollowly.

"Yes… But anyways, the books in the library say that for seers to predict something there has to be some kind of trigger in what they call their 'inner eye' or the 'Sight'. Really clichéd titles if you ask me…"

Harry glared at her. "Will you get to the point?"

"Sorry. What I'm trying to say is that Nico was Trelawney's trigger; just like Dumbledore was seventeen years ago and like you were in third year."

The-Boy-Who-Lived groaned and rubbed his forehead. "I hate Divination; it gives me a headache, it's so complex."

Hermione nodded gravely. "Yes I know."

"What exactly are seers anyway?"

"Well they're our only connection to Fate. They give us notice about what's to come; you know, like how Muggles predict the weather."

Harry raised an eyebrow. "Really? So they're just telling us the forecast for the future?"

Hermione glared at him. "Harry, this is serious. Nico's prophecy will come true. And from what I managed to make out, it didn't sound very positive."

"It's seems sugarcoated compared to what I got. At least it wasn't predicting death or anything depressing like that."

Hermione looked ashamed. "Sorry, Harry. I forget myself sometimes."

Harry shrugged. "It's okay."

"But, really, prophecies are very indirect. You could be positive that a part of a prediction means something, but it could mean a different matter altogether. It's almost always very, very vague." Hermione shuddered.

"Do you remember what it was?"

She nodded and smiled. "Don't I always?"

* * *

><p>Three weeks passed surprisingly quickly for Nico di Angelo. For most ADHD demigods, days seemed more like weeks and a two-hour test felt like an eternity. Hogwarts was becoming a normal part of his life; the routine that had seemed so complicated in the beginning was now second-nature to him.<p>

Nico found himself excelling in all his classes, and he had an even better average than Hermione. Harry had bypassed him in Potions but only barely. Slughorn, after finding out who he was related to, invited him to what he called 'The Slug Club' or an exclusive club for talented students that were 'filled with promise'. Sixth year free periods were filled with rapid desperation of keeping up with the vast amount of homework that the teachers unceremoniously dumped on their tables. Ron, apparently, was sorely disappointed as he had expected the free time to be an hour of relaxation. Relaxation unfortunately was beginning to appear more and more scarce as the days flashed by. Keeping up with the curriculum was a challenge for even Hermione and that in itself was a miracle.

But the day that Nico had been dreading for the past month he had spent in Hogwarts was approaching fast. The Quidditch tryouts happened to be this morning in fact. A round knot of dread and fear rolled in the pit of his stomach and he found himself unable to choke down breakfast despite Hecate's prodding. His throat was dry and sticky, while his tongue was coated with a nasty aftertaste that was similar to spoiled eggs.

'_It's a pity, really,' _he heard the goddess of Magic say after a pregnant pause. _'You have the perfect build for a Chaser. With the proper training, you could've gone professional!'_

'_Hecate, now isn't the time,' _Nico responded. _'I'm about to be killed by Zeus, here.'_

'_Oh, quit whining. I talked with him weeks ago. He won't lay a single volt on you.'_

Nico said nothing, only stirring his bowl of cold cereal restlessly in response. He stared at the saturated cornflakes in despair, watching as they stuck to his metal spoon and plopped off into the cold milk when he lifted the utensil above the bowl.

Zeus obviously didn't look like he was in the mood to help either; the sky was covered by a thick layer of gray, foreboding clouds from which came the occasional on-and-off drizzle that everybody hated. To top it off, it was just plain cold and gloomy.

Nico barely glanced up as the post owls swooped into the Hall from their atrium, only acknowledging their presence when a few spare feathers landed in his hair and cereal.

Breakfast passed all too quickly for Nico. The steady flow of students heading to their first classes swept him up and practically threw him onto the Quidditch pitch. The stadium, he had to admit, was extremely impressive. There were three large hoops on each side of the field, some fifteen to twenty stories high, only slightly smaller than the shortest tower of the castle. The stands, each one the color of one of the four houses, were nearly as tall, to enable the watchers to be the same height as the players.

As Nico had expected, the trials took most of the morning because of the amount of Quidditch hopefuls. Half of Gryffindor House seemed to have turned up, from anxious first years who were nervously clutching a selection of the dreadful old school brooms to large seventh years who towered over the rest, looking coolly intimidating and professional.

Soon it was Nico's turn. Harry, the captain of the Quidditch team, flew gracefully over and took the form that Hooch had told him to give to him.

The Chosen One glanced up after reading it through. "So you're not trying out?"

Nico shook his head. "No. I'm just here because I have to."

"Well here," Harry said briskly as he tossed Nico one of the relatively new school brooms purchased two years ago. "Just remember that it responds to the movement of your hands and you'll be fine."

The demigod watched as Potter glided away to hover in order to watch at a safe distance. Nico turned to his broom and took a deep breath in order to clear his head. He boarded the broomstick and steadily rose into the air (to his complete surprise and disbelief) before tentatively gliding forward; not too fast, not too slow. As he began to adjust to the sensation of being practically weightless, he felt more comfortable. The chilly, refreshing blasts of wind ruffled through his flying robes and hair, curling the dark strands around his head. Nico allowed a grin to break out over his face as he realized how languidly he was going and he wasn't dead; yet. He let out a relieved, slightly insane laugh and began to fly faster. He swooped over the head of Harry who whooped along with Nico.

The world blurred by as he darted away through the air, the cold air piercing his skin. He could feel his hands tightly wrapped around the broom's handle, some old splinters in the wood pricking his hands. The discomfort of the cuts vanished, however, when a jagged bolt of lightning crashed into the stand next to his right. The screams of the onlookers on the stand burst into his eardrums as he veered to the left in order to avoid the electricity. He swore and ducked volts of energy as booms of thunder suddenly banged across the field. The sound was so severe; Nico couldn't help but compare it to a bullet. He yelled out and shouted in Ancient Greek as another bleacher was set aflame from the lightning.

He knew he needed to get back on the ground; Zeus was targeting him and him alone. He'd leave the students alone if Nico landed and promised not to go up again.

A jolt of pain went up his ankles as he landed too fast, but he ignored it as he screamed at the sky (in Ancient Greek, no less) _"Fine, fine, you win! No more flying! I get it!"_

The sky rumbled ominously, but there was no more lightning. Nico realized he was trembling and in a sudden rage, forced himself to stop. His breathing unsteady, he turned to Harry who was looking appropriately alarmed.

The demigod thrust the broom into Harry's gloved hands; Nico said coldly "I don't care if I get straight F's for the rest of the semester. I am NOT doing that again." He turned on his heel and stormed back into the castle, more than a little angry.

"Well that didn't go well," said Ron behind Harry.

The Boy-Who-Lived turned to glare at his best friend. "Really? No. I had no idea."

* * *

><p>Ron and Harry met up with Hermione who was chewing on her quill in the library, a long piece of parchment curling off the table she was seated at.<p>

"What cha doing Hermione?" asked Harry as he sat down next to her, glancing over her shoulder to look at the small stanza she had written with red ink arrows and circles scribbled around certain parts.

"This is Nico's prophecy," answered the brown-haired girl, her brow furrowing in concentration.

Ron and Harry exchanged a look.

"What are you doing with it?" Ron questioned warily.

"Well obviously, I'm trying to decipher it to see what it means," said Hermione with a well-practiced glare in the redhead's direction.

Harry stared at the familiar rhyme interestedly. "What've you got so far?"

Hermione grinned. "Well for starters, this first part I've mostly covered:

"_Two fangs bared in the stony black night,  
>The serpent slithers forward; beware of its bite,"<em>

"It could mean multiple things. The most obvious ones would be that Nico is being warned to avoid Slytherin House (their seal is a snake, therefore a serpent) Voldemort (who is a renowned Slytherin) or perhaps that horrible snake that he always brings with him. I'm not ruling out any of these options yet."

"The rest of the prophecy, though, gets a little foggy after that. Take these lines for example: _Poison flows from the deepest pit/its antidote falls from the tallow's drip._

"I'm not exactly sure what that means yet. All I've been able to decide is that sooner or later Nico will encounter some type of poison or toxin that he has to get the antidote for. Why, I have no idea.

"Now the next two lines are pretty much straight forward. _Dark dull thuds fall upon the stair/Terrible news the cloaked man bears_. From what I've gathered, a cloaked man is going to tell Nico some very bad news. Maybe personal information concerning friends or family? I've no idea yet." Hermione paused as she stared at the paper intensely. "I just got up to this stanza when you guys came." She turned away from the prophecy to stare at her best friends expectantly.

Ron was staring at her uncomprehendingly. "I don't get it. Why are you even trying to do this 'Mione? It's not your business."

Hermione gazed at him in silence, her expression unreadable before speaking. "Ron. If you didn't have curiosity the equivalent of a spoon then you would understand. It's natural to be a bit interested in these things."

Harry frowned. "But you hate Divination. Why researching it now?"

"Because Harry; I feel the need to get involved somehow and this is the way I've chosen." She lifted her chin as if daring him to argue.

Ron sighed. "Obviously, Nico just wants to be left alone. Can't you just drop the whole thing and forget about it before you get hurt? Or worse – expelled."

"Obviously, Nico's not a normal student," mimicked Hermione. "And I intend to find out how." She gathered up her books and walked away, her face set into an expression of determination.

Ron watched after her, shaking his head a bit before turning to his best friend. "What are we going to do with her?" he asked tiredly.

Harry sighed. "What we always do. Let her go on and have her fun and just pray that she'll lose interest before somebody ends up with a broken bone."

"Sometimes praying doesn't help," said Ron as Harry fished the Half-Blood Prince's Potions book out of his bag and opened the page randomly. "Sometimes, you need to get help before somebody gets killed."

Harry shrugged. "Hermione will wear down eventually. She always –" But what he was about to say he never finished because Madame Pinch, the hawk-like librarian with the too-large nose swooped down at them unexpectedly at the sight of the scribbled-on book.

"What HAVE you done to that book boy?" screeched the caretaker, her eyes bulging in disgust and undisguised loath. Her clawed hand lashed out and Harry barely managed to keep the text out of her talons.

"It's not a library book!" he shouted as another attack ensued. "It's mine! It's just been written on, is all!"

"Befouled, despoiled! Ruined! Desecrated!" the old hag shrieked.

The two boys were herded out of the library. They heard the distinct 'click' as the lock snapped shut. Ron glared resentfully at the book as if it had personally insulted his mother. "Oh, look now what it's done. Had to get us thrown out, did it?"

Harry rolled his eyes. "It's just a book, Ron. You can't hold it responsible for something it didn't do. And you and I both know you'd do anything to get out of the library anyway."

Ron shrugged, but his eyes were still angry. "Ever since you got that thing everybody seems to be getting weirder and weirder."

Harry snorted. "Sure. Blame it on the textbook, why not?"

The redhead glared at Harry before surrendering and following Harry as the duo made their way to lunch. The Great Hall was as crowded and as loud as ever as they made their way to the Gryffindor table. Surprisingly, everyone in the Lion's Den looked just as gloomy and as depressed as Nico di Angelo as they sat down.

Ron asked Dean Thomas, who was miserably stirring his roast beef soup, "What's everybody upset about?"

The sixth year looked up and sighed, tossing the redhead a rather dirty copy of the Daily Prophet. "Take a look yourself," he said, his tone flat.

Unfolding the paper, Ron frowned at Dean before turning to the newspaper. Immediately his face darkened as he passed the pamphlet to Harry, saying "The Death Eaters have been busier than usual."

Harry scowled and his eyes widened. "Six Dementor attacks over the past two weeks? That's…"

"Unbelievable," finished Ginny.

"Ministry of Magic's got their hands full," murmured Neville. "Not that they're doing a very good job of it."

"Just something else we have to deal with," said Seamus downheartedly.

"Come on, now." Ginny attempted a half-hearted grin. "Let's not be so… pessimistic. We need to look on the bright-side."

"Maybe there is no bright-side," suggested Ron dully.

No response.

* * *

><p>Nico heard the footsteps before he spotted the weasel. Slicked back blondish-white hair, so pale he wondered whether it was bleached, a thin, aristocratic face that didn't look the least bit friendly, and a too angular face with pointy cheekbones and a permanent sneer to complete the look. Hanging from the Slytherin's spidery hands was an apple the color of green poison. The crisp, sweet scent pierced his nose before the blood did.<p>

It was very, very late in Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. A little past midnight but not one o' clock yet. The son of Hades had been wandering the dark corridors practicing his god-inherited power. Shadow-Manipulating and alchemy. The now-golden bricks that dotted the otherwise dark-stoned cinderblocks in the castle wall were enough evidence of that. His wizard robes were left in his trunk in the boys' dormitory, leaving him in his regular attire; short-sleeved, high collared black shirt with ratty gray jeans, a dagger-holster strapped tightly to his pale-in-comparison forearm (which held four throwing knives and a close-combat ceremonial dagger) a long sword hanging from his belt and his beaded necklace from Camp Half-Blood. There were two shin-guards hidden underneath the denim pants that held several other unmentionable weapons.

The aristocrat stopped short at the sight of Nico, who was looking just as intimidating and dangerous as ever.

The blond stared at him before saying in a hoarse whisper "Who the bloody _hell _are you?"

Nico spoke in regular volume which seemed to unnerve his temporary companion even more. "I am Nico di Angelo. And, in your words, who the bloody _hell _are you?" Nico mimicked the boy's British accent mockingly before pausing.

Nose in the air, the person responded "I'm Draco Malfoy." His voice was still relatively low.

Nico frowned. "Malfoy?" Where had he heard that name before?

"Yes, Draco Malfoy! Will you shut up?" The pale grey eyes looked left and right wildly as if expecting a teacher to pop out at them at any second. "Peeves could hear you!"

Nico rolled his eyes. "Like he'd dare come here. Trust me; we're safe from that stupid poltergeist. So you're Draco Malfoy? Hmm. Heard a lot about you; can't say I'm impressed."

Draco stared at the gothic boy before catching upon the odd accent the boy sported. Finally he said, his voice annoyed, "You're supposed to be the hot-shot transfer student? Don't know why you're in Gryffindor. You're attitude is pure Slytherin." Malfoy took a large bite out of the apple, the lovely crunch resonating throughout the empty hallway.

Nico glared. "I take that as a personal offense. I'd never be caught dead in that snake-loving house, thanks."

Draco's nostrils flared and his mouth opened before closing in anger revealing half-chewed fruit before swallowing. "What are you doing up this late?"

The demigod smirked. "I could ask you the same question."

"What makes you think I'll answer?"

"An eye for an eye, my friend. You tell me why you're up past curfew and wandering the castle in the dead of night and I'll tell you… maybe."

Malfoy shook his head. "Are you always so irking?"

"Are you always so nosy?" countered the son of Hades.

No answer.

"Alright, then." The boy turned away to continue his work when a hesitant call from the wizard stopped him in his tracks.

"Are you what they sent to help us?"

Nico whipped around suddenly. "What do you know about that?" he demanded, his voice a mere hiss.

Draco frowned. "I don't know. My dad used to be part of the Ministry. They said before they threw him into Azkaban that one of the offspring of a… of a…" Draco broke off, brow furrowing in admirable, if wasted, concentration. "Of a… monster? I… can't remember. Something about an old war? No idea."

Nico sniffed. Thank the gods for the Mist. "Keep it that way." As he turned to leave, he realized something. "Hey, snake!"

Draco turned around, looking offended and grudging.

"What did you say about a battle?"

Malfoy frowned. "Why do you want to know?"

"That's my business, thanks."

"What's in it for me?"

Nico scowled. Malfoy's voice had taken on an unpleasantly greedy quality. Slowly, as if to emphasize the point, Nico withdrew his thin, ceremonial dagger before turning the weapon over leisurely in his hands.

The Slytherin froze as his eyes landed on the gold-inlaid hilt and the silver blade that glinted ever so threateningly in the dimly lit hallway. Nico bit his lip as if in thought. "I'm not sure. After all the information I'm asking for is very valuable. Maybe a toe or a finger. No, no. I think you deserve something a bit larger. I don't want to think I'm cheating you. Perhaps a whole arm or a foot. But Madame Pomfrey would just make them grow back despite all the pain."

Malfoy shook his head. "You wouldn't dare."

Nico's eye glinted dangerously. "Try me."

Draco hesitated. He never saw it coming, it was so fast. One second the knife was right there in Nico's hands, the next it was sunken to its hilt into the stone wall behind him, two inches from his head. Malfoy turned to stare at Nico with wide grey eyes.

"They said something about allying with an old enemy from a war fifty years back or something. I dunno, honest."

Nico smiled, satisfied. "Thank you. You have a pleasant evening Draco Malfoy." With that, Nico turned on his heel and slinked away into the dark castle and who-knows-where-else.

**Booka: Know it's short, but I wanted to update. Flames are welcome even though they burn. This chapter was basically a bunch of clips from random days in Hogwarts. Nothing important happened yet. So please review and I'm so glad how many of you did already. Thanks! But you still have to review! Review! REVIEW!**


	6. Help?

**Disclaimer: I do not own Percy Jackson and the Olympians or Harry Potter.**

**I own only my OCs, some of which are in this chapter. **

**R&R!**

Perhaps the most boring, unpleasant, utterly horrid experience Nico had the misfortune to ever endure would be the debates at the Ministry of Magic. Although the longest discussion lasted only an hour, tops, Nico's ADHD made it seem like an eternity at a time. It was always the same arguments, always the same conclusion and always undecided. Also, apparently according to wizard law Nico was not allowed to speak in court because he was a demigod.

Nico felt his eyelid twitch in irritation as the shouting of the Wizengamot increased tenfold. The pounding of the noise was bringing on a large migraine and Nico wondered whether it was possible for a half-blood's head to explode. The room in which the council was positioned was in a large, square hall in which there were several chairs surrounding a narrow but long platform in the middle of the room. The minister, a graying man with a round face, wide-rimmed glasses and a bad limp accompanied by a walking stick, was seated there and so was Nico, who apparently did not seem to be enjoying the situation. A permanent frown twisted his mouth and he glared angrily at any person who dared to make eye contact with him. He wasn't making a very good impression on the wizards to say the least.

His index finger and his thumb squeezed the bridge of his nose and he tilted his head back in order to reach the tension.

"… not an option!" one politician shouted above the others.

"They can't be trusted!" shrieked another.

"We can't afford to take these types of risks!" screamed a third.

There were a few who were halfheartedly attempting to defend the Greeks, but most were very subtle in their shouting. Dumbledore was out on one of his mysterious absences from Hogwarts so he wasn't there as well as any of the professors from the school.

Nico felt the anger bubbling underneath his skin. Red hot fury pumped through his veins and suddenly, he knew he had to do something.

Abruptly, he stood up. The yelling and arguing ceased immediately and some very hostile, annoyed glances were sent his way.

Nico glared around at the Wizengamot angrily for a second before hissing angrily "You really think this – fighting and arguing – is going to help save Europe? No, I will not be quiet Minister," he snapped at Rufus Scrimgeour who looked like he was about to say something. "I'm a demigod; you have no power over me in court. If you really want to save your precious population, then I suggest you actually do something instead of whining like a bunch of underfed babies."

He sighed as the adrenaline drained from his arteries and ran a hand through his hair in frustration. "We're your only chance," he finally said after a long pause. "But if you don't accept our help, none of us will survive this. Think about that before you go around making unrealistic prejudices against us."

With that, Nico turned on his heel and stormed out of the room, ignoring the looks of shock and anger sent his way.

"You shouldn't have done that." The voice was soft and taunting and very familiar, coming from behind the son of Hades who stalked down the hall.

Nico turned and sighed. "Costello. What are you doing here?"

The teenage boy that leaned against the dark wall of the corridor was obviously inhuman. Anybody could tell that. With the long white-blond hair that swept down to his shoulders and the golden eyes that gleamed with an inner radiance he seemed to be more alien than humanoid. He was tall and slim, wearing a white dress shirt and black trousers that fell to his ankles. His face was thin and hollow with high cheekbones and a sloping nose, unnaturally beautiful but at the same time realistic. That was his most haunting feature; his realism. His feet were barefoot and he, like Nico, was unnaturally pale with a pearly white skin color.

The Assistant of Hecate smirked showing needle-sharp teeth and said smoothly in response to Nico's question "I'm just making sure that you don't mess up."

Nico rolled his eyes, but smiled as well. "Yeah, don't worry. Your master's got that covered."

Costello chuckled. "Yeah. She has a bad habit of whispering into unsuspecting demigods' ears. I apologize if she was bothering you. So, how's life?"

Nico leaned against the wall next to him and sighed. "Not so hot. Ministry's proving to be a really hard nut to crack."

Costello shrugged. "Wizards always were one of the most stubborn races. Even two millennia can't change that. Then again, so are we."

"Yeah, but they're so _prejudiced!_"

"Yeah, but we're so _full of it!" _the blond-white boy shot back.

Nico grinned. "So what? It's not like a little pride will kill us."

"Hmm," mused Costello. "What happened to Jason then? Or maybe Orpheus?"

"Aw, come on! Orpheus was not arrogant!"

Costello raised a perfectly shaped eyebrow. "You didn't know him the way I did. Trust me, he was just about as whiny as you could get. Always held a grudge against Hades after the whole 'stolen wife' ordeal."

Nico grinned cheekily. "Sounds like someone else I know."

"I," said Costello haughtily "am not whiny."

The son of Hades rolled his eyes and scoffed. "Sure. Keep telling yourself that."

His companion glared for a moment before laughing softly. Suddenly, his face turned serious. "Things aren't going so well in America. A lot of demigods are getting impatient. They're wondering whether we should even get involved at all."

Nico growled. "Well, you can just tell Michael Kren to shut his –"

"It's not just Kren, Nico," Costello interrupted. "A lot of demigods don't trust the wizards."

"Oh, for the love of Zeus! Am I the only unbiased person in the damn world or is everyone just trying to get themselves killed!"

Costello sighed and ran a hand through his hair agitatedly. "I know, I know. It's frustrating but we just gotta keep hoping someone powerful comes to their senses." Then he grinned. "But I think you've converted a couple of wizards in the Wizengamot already."

"What? By screaming at them? I seriously doubt it." Nico looked away, frowning.

"Sometimes people need to be screamed at," said Costello wisely. "I think they needed to understand how life-threatening this situation is. You did just that."

"Thanks," muttered Nico awkwardly.

Costello glanced up at the large clock sitting on the wall above them. "Time for me to go," he said, turning back to the son of Hades seriously. "I'm needed in Olympus."

Nico nodded and said "I'll look after Hecate for you."

The boy smirked. "No offense, Nico, but I don't think even you could control her." And then Costello simply… disappeared.

Nico sighed and said to nobody in particular "I hate it when he does that."

Despite Costello's professional exterior, Nico knew that the dry humored, immensely (almost irritatingly) responsible Creation of Hecate was in reality a very amusing and intelligent companion. He didn't really understand the concept of how Costello came to be, though. It made no sense whatsoever to the son of Hades despite Costello's several attempts at trying to explain. There was a time in which Hecate was rather lonely. Mortals were rather dumb in the Old Times and she had very little patience for ignorance, no matter how well reasoned. So instead of wasting precious time searching for one well-rounded human, she simply created her own. With a drop of blood from Athena, the goddess of wisdom, and a single hair of a sphinx, one of the most intelligent beings of the Earth combined with a flask of molten lava from a volcano located in the depths of the Underworld, the wild, bare form of what was to become Costello was formed. Nico found it rather disturbing that Costello was one of Hecate's untested experiments but the topic was well avoided and there was no reason to bring it up.

* * *

><p>The sky was very dark outside and very beautiful. Caked with smears of stars, so bright it looked as if someone had taken a handful of silver glitter, the kind that kindergarteners' used for arts-and-crafts, and had dashed the dark blue of the atmosphere with the gleaming stuff, the sky looked absolutely stunning. Nico watched from the window of the boys' dormitory, his intense stare seeming very far away as he sat on the cushioned window sill, the glass in front of him fogged from his breath. Three months had passed since he had stepped into the threshold of the castle that September night. He had come to appreciate the castle and all its secrets in that amount of time.<p>

He could hear the muffled snores of his peers from the curtained beds of the room. Nico frowned and pulled the satiny blanket around him tighter as he contemplated.

Suddenly, he thought _'Hecate? Are you there?'_

'_Yes, Nico?' _the goddess responded, her voice brisk as if she was always up at three am in the morning.

'_How…' _Nico trailed off and started up again. _'Tell me about the war between the demigods and the wizards.'_

A very tired and weary sigh greeted his ears; Hecate sounded very old and exhausted all of a sudden. _'Why?'_

'_Because I need to know.' _

The excuse was just as vague as a flat "No, I refuse to tell you" but Hecate did not pry.

'_It started off like any other war, I suppose,' _she said._ 'Greed and power-hungry beings, scared by the unknown and angered by the mistake of… well, me, took up their arms and journeyed to Britain.'_

'_You must understand, Nico. There is a reason why Pan died. The property over which he rules was dying out. There weren't enough pure, untouched wildernesses for him to extract power from. So, his existence flickered out like a flame. A thousand years ago, it was the same for me.'_

Nico took a breath; Hecate, dying? It didn't seem probably. She was just so lively and brilliant. A world without her would be considerably darker.

'_There weren't enough people who were in tune with magic for me to keep living. I had no choice except to do what I needed to; and I admit, I was _scared _Nico. Imagine that; a goddess, minor or not, scared!' _There was a bitter laugh. _'Oh, I was such a coward. But what I did cannot be reversed. So I choose seven, a special number, unique mortals and to them, I gave my blessing. The result was beautiful; a powerful, completely competent mortal with a gift from a Greek goddess. And then, when the time came, I erased their memories of me. It sounds cruel; but it was for their safety. If Zeus found out he would annihilate the lot of them. So I hid them from the other Olympians, and doing so, I hid myself from them. It was a heart-wrenching to do for me; to watch my creations struggle with the world, but I couldn't do anything. Then, fifty years ago, Zeus found out. How, I have no idea. But he did and declared war against the wizards. He was angry, very angry about a race of mortals that he had no power over. I had control and he didn't; that disturbed him greatly that a minor goddess had something that he did not. If he could have, he would've wiped them all out but there were too many of them for him to destroy.'_

'_It was a terrible, gory war. People died; too many people died. We were both too powerful for each other. No one could gain the initiative. Mortals died as well, not just us. They were caught in the crossfire unfortunately and often wonder what cover story the Mist would cook up for them. I went to them and I explained who and what they were dealing with. They didn't believe me at first. But then one of them went digging and found out I was telling the truth. I can't tell you how upset Zeus was with me but I didn't care anymore really. If the war went on, we'd destroy each other. It lasted three years. That's relatively short for a war but there were so many casualties. We came to an agreement though. We Greeks will keep to ourselves as long as they kept to theirs. We hold nothing over them; we can't interfere with their lives. It seemed like a fair treaty to me but Zeus was very moody for a long time afterward.'_

'_I can imagine,' _Nico commented.

'_Yeah. Everything pretty much was left as before. But we knew of each others' existence and nothing could change that." _Hecate laughed a dry chuckle. _"We're kind of like their dirty little secret. There's an unspoken rule in society that if you dare mention our name, you will be shunned. It's sad really; wizards avoid the topic of demigods at all costs. It's just not proper, like saying swear words to your teacher."_

'_Really? We're that bad?'_

'_Yes and it's pathetic really. You'll learn more about the war. I believe they are some texts in the school library on the subject – in Ancient Greek of course – but most likely in the restricted section.'_

'_Well that really sucks.'_

'_That's one negative way to put it.'_

'_What exactly did you expect? I'm a son of Hades, remember?'_

"_How could anyone forget? Oh, before I leave I need you to do something important for me.'_

'_What's that?'_

'_Go to the Astronomy Tower tonight. I think you'll find the visit most interesting.'_

'_Wait, what?'_

Silence.

'_Hecate?'_

No answer.

"Arrgh!" Nico accidentally groaned aloud causing a certain redheaded Gryffindor to fall out of his bed and look up in a panic, half-asleep and eyes crusted together with slumber.

"Wha's goin' on?" slurred Ron, his chin resting on the floor.

"Nothing, go back to sleep," Nico said flatly.

"'Kay," mumbled the prone boy as he let his head fall flat against the hard ground. A minute later, a loud snore emanated from the wizard despite still lying on the wooden floorboards.

"Imbecile," Nico grumbled.

The son of Death stood and placed the silky sheet he had tightly wound around himself on his bed before digging into his trunk, wincing as a loud, agonizingly slow "Creak!" responded from the wooden box's strained hinges and withdrawing a randomly selected shirt and a long black cloak. After pulling the t-shirt over his bare torso, tugging on his leather gloves and tossing the cloak around himself, he left the dormitory without a second thought.

As the middle of winter was quickly approaching the castle, Hogwarts was quickly becoming colder than an icebox. The torches that lined the stone walls burned brighter than ever in an effort to keep the temperature under control. Despite the inhabitants' attempt to warm up the undeniably chilly manor, as the outside temperatures rapidly dropped past freezing at night so did the castle's, creating a frosty school for the students. Everyone was always bundled up in scarves and sweaters and boots underneath all the robes and uniforms. Nico was beginning to regret his hasty decision as the naked soles of his feet hit the floor rhythmically, stiff and cold against the icy floor. He shuddered and pulled his cloak around himself tighter, his breath visible in small but constant puffs of mist, the moisture in his exhalations condensing.

He had always gone to the Astronomy Tower before when he wanted to practice his powers, often the newer ones. It felt comforting, if not ironic, to be so close to the stars and other celestial bodies in the pretty dark sky. He felt strangely at home and although he knew Zeus did not approve, this was one small pleasure he had promised himself the gods would not be able to take away. Unfortunately the open-roofed turret was bitingly cold as the night air nipped at Nico's exposed face and seeped into his cloak. He shivered and in order to warm himself took out the ambrosia cigarettes that Crypta* had given him that day three years ago. Lighting one, he brought the black mouthpiece to his lips and took a deep breath, savoring the fruity flavor before watching as he breathed the smoke out. Warmth and strength surged through him and he waited patiently for something he knew would eventually. Soon the rooftop was covered in a thin haze of smoke courtesy of the son of Hades. Content and now warm, Nico leaned back and felt himself relax before something interrupted his uncharacteristically calm atmosphere.

"Ah, Nico di Angelo," said an overconfident voice. "I knew you'd be up here."

Nico smirked, amused. "And how would that be, Malfoy?"

Draco Malfoy stepped out onto the high platform that was the tower and lost his smirk as he felt the cold midnight air wash over him. After a good shudder, he said "Oh, a little birdie whispered in my ear. It was more of a loon really."

Nico raised an eyebrow. "Make sense Malfoy or I swear I will not hesitate to dissect your scrawny little throat."

"That Lovegood girl has a very large mouth now that I think of it." The boy smiled but the cocky look didn't go very well with his eyes red and puffy, irritated from the foggy layer of smoke that surrounded the tower.

Nico nodded in understanding. The demigod had shocked the entire student body of Hogwarts a month earlier by befriending the least likely person anybody would be caught dead with; the odd little blonde girl called Luna Lovegood with an untamable tendency of making everyone around her fidget with anxiousness and discomfort as her weird ways of thinking soon became apparent to the person she was talking to. Nico had developed a sort of brotherly affection for the shunned misfit and had talked to her one night after finding her wandering the halls, sleepwalking. When he had asked her about the scuffed red trainers she wore, she had answered she had a bad habit of finding her way out of the Ravenclaw room when she slumbered and wore the shoes in order to prevent further injury.

As the two began to bump into each other on a regular basis when on night errands (planned or otherwise) they found it nice to have someone to talk to in the lonely, slightly intimidating castle. Nico had liked Luna instantly because of the common way she talked about death and monsters. If she did not fear Death than there was no reason she had any reason to fear him and in this way, he felt as if she accepted him wholly and without consequence to any of his peculiarities. Luna often found him haunting the Astronomy Tower and was always completely unsurprised to find him lurking in the shadows behind her if she woke up in an unfamiliar location in which she had not fallen asleep. As their friendship grew, Nico found out the reason she was a Ravenclaw; the girl was undeniably clever and not at all shy with anyone of any sort, which Nico found one of her best traits. Unprejudiced wizards were proving very rare to find these days, almost annoyingly so. It didn't surprise Nico in the least that Draco had coaxed Luna into telling him where he could find the son of Hades; Luna wasn't one to keep secrets especially if there was something interesting involved that she could find out later.

"So what do you want?" Nico asked; as he talked a cloud of smoke twisted from his mouth, the bluish-gray mist lingering in the air longer than Draco thought possible.

"Never thought you'd be the type to smoke, di Angelo," Malfoy sneered with unnerving similarity to a certain Potions Master.

Nico grinned cheekily. "You're avoiding the question."

"I need help," the pureblood admitted grudgingly.

Nico gave a dramatic gasp. "Draco Malfoy; asking for help? I never thought I'd see the day!"

"Oh, shut up!" Malfoy growled.

Nico cackled evilly, not unlike a witch. He sobered up however as he took a long drag on the cigarette in thought. "What kind of help?"

"The ghost-kind-of-help," Draco grumbled. "Peeves seems to have taken it upon himself to guard the third floor where I usually hang around at night. I need you to get rid of him for me."

His companion raised an eyebrow critically. "What makes you think I can or will do that?"

"Well obviously every ghost in the castle is scared out of their skins because of you. If there's anyone in the school that has any amount of control over Peeves than it would either be you or the Bloody Baron, but I doubt he would even consider my offer." If Nico was stupid he would have thought there was a touch of jealousy in Malfoy's mumble.

"I see your point," mused Nico after a pause. "But what's in it for me?"

Draco reached into his robes and pulled out a tan, slightly bulky bag. Tossing it at Nico's feet, the half-blood heard the distinctive jingle of metal coins in the money sack.

Nico snorted as he picked it up. "A bribe? Sorry Slytherin but I already have enough gold." _Being the son of Hades, god of Earthly treasure does have its perks._ "Precious metals hold no use for me."

"Then what do you want?" Malfoy's voice was getting impatient and he glared venomously at Nico.

Nico thought for a minute as he puffed on the ignited roll of ambrosia in his hand. "A note signed by Snape granting me access to the Restriction Section in the library." He could always shadow-travel into the off-limits back of the room but it would be easier to just get legal admission so that he didn't have to hide any books from view.

"Done." Malfoy responded without hesitation.

"Good; now get out." Nico then proceeded to ignore Draco and heard, with immense satisfaction, the snake's footsteps faded away, leaving the demigod in peace.

After an appropriate amount of time had passed (about five minutes or so) Nico grimaced and stood from his seat on the cold stone floor of the turret. He glanced around the roof and stubbed out his cigarette, placing the end in his pocket. Nico di Angelo was a lot of things but he wasn't a litterer. He suddenly yelled out "PEEVES! Get over here!"

There was an abrupt wind that swept across the tower chillingly; along with it came the ugly little ghost with wide terrified eyes as he landed ungracefully on the stone floor. "Yes, my lord?" asked the poltergeist in an unctuous voice as he got to his wobbly feet.

Nico wrinkled his nose in distaste before saying testily "I've heard you've been lurking on the third floor, Peeves. Why is that?"

Peeves smiled oily before saying in a pouty voice "Some vewy bad sixth years were sneaking awound the castle. So Peevesy was only trying to do da wight ding." The ghost flashed a disgusting smile with a mouth filled with yellowing teeth.

Nico glared; that awful speech impediment was annoying beyond belief. "Well stop trying to do 'da wight ding' and mind your own business. I never liked tattletales. You aren't an exception."

"But –"

"No butts!" Nico snapped angrily. "Just quit it. And get out." He waved his hands as if to emphasize the fact that Peeves was dismissed

The ghost pouted angrily but obediently left with no objections.

"Pushover," the Ghost King muttered as his subject swept dramatically from the turret.

There was a soft padding of feet on the stairs that signaled that someone was coming up to the Astronomy Tower. Nico wasn't worried; he knew those footsteps anywhere. She stepped onto the stone platform and shuddered at the cold. Her dirty blond hair was plaited tightly into a French braid that fell to her mid-back while she wore a thin blue nightgown with queer tiny silver bells hanging from the too-long hem that fell clumsily over her shoed feet. The bells jangled delicately as she walked and her vague gaze looked at Nico hazily as she shivered.

"What did Draco want?" Luna asked as she stared at her friend unblinkingly.

"Just some help with Peeves," Nico said shortly. "Apparently he's been having some trouble getting to the third floor at night."

Luna smiled dreamily. "I don't trust him," she murmured, swaying to a tune no one else could hear.

Nico frowned. "Why not?"

"Dad's a Death Eater, Mum's a bore," said Luna in a sing-song voice. "Think he's in on the Driggler Conspiracy?" she asked suddenly, her eyes widening with comical horror.

Nico had by now learned not to ask when Luna seemingly went off topic not to ask under ANY circumstances. So instead of questioning her, he simply said "Maybe."

She stared at him intensely before he looked away from her strong grey eyes. "It's okay to say you don't believe me," she intoned. "Lots of people have before in very rude ways."

"…You shouldn't let people push you around like that," Nico said after a pregnant pause gazing at her with something akin to sternness. "If you let people disrespect you, it's a sign you disrespect yourself."

Luna smiled vaguely. "That depends on what you think disrespect is."

Nico grinned and stood. "I'll never understand you Luna but I know you're something special."

Luna hummed happily to herself as she followed the son of Hades down the stairs and as Nico bid her goodnight, she felt a warm contented feeling overtake her as she realized that she had a true friend. An odd, moody one, true, but a friend nevertheless.

"What is the most valuable treasure one can ever hope to achieve?" was the question the Ravenclaw Common Room Door asked that night.

Luna didn't even pause. "Friendship."

"Well said, well said," commented the door as it swung open in order to allow the girl through.

* * *

><p><strong>Booka: It's really short, I know, but I needed to update. I haven't in a while but I had a BAD case of writer's block. Sorry!<strong>

*** My OC Crypta, immortal demigoddess, daughter of Thanatos. For more information, read my other fanfiction, Cigarettes.**

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	7. Night Terrors

**Booka: Thank you to all who reviewed previously! I can't believe how many reviews I've gotten and I can't wait to get more. Thanks!**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Percy Jackson and the Olympians or Harry Potter nor am I earning anything other than immense satisfaction by writing this fanfic.**

_It's very dark in the large, foreboding mansion and very cold as well. A soft, yet frightening hiss interrupts the silence of the large manor. The snake slides along its thick belly, the powerful muscles that make up the serpent contracting and twisting as the creature glides across the floor. The greenish black scales glimmers impressively in the dim lighting of the hallway and a purplish forked tongue flickers out to taste the air as it approaches the room it knows holds its master. The dark, wooden door stands at the end of the corridor and she stretches out her strong form in impatience. 'Master,' the snake thinks in an almost reverent attitude. He has given her so much; power and protection and the brilliantly black connection between them he had given her in the early days of their companionship. It had hurt, yes, but she's not a fool. She knows that it was _him _in her mind, attaching them permanently. Yet there is still so much more to be gained by standing with the Dark Lord. It fills her with pleasure to think she had satisfied her master enough to unite him and her together in an eternal bond._

_The snake hisses again and its great length slithers into the room, the door opening obediently in order to allow her entrance. A fire blazes in a sooty fireplace in the windowless room and a desk is hidden in the far corner. Her master is quietly seated in a fabric armchair, his physique cast in shadow. He is a rather impressive figure, even when sitting. He is tall and thin with a narrow, unpleasantly serpentine face with purely inhumane features that she was immensely proud of. Two small slits in his face instead of a nose and a thin, almost nonexistent mouth made him seem even more frightening than he already is. His skin is nearly gray, it is so pale. _

"_Ah, Nagini," he whispers in his hoarse voice. The brilliantly red eyes stare at her piercingly. "Come here, my pet." The long fingered hand beckons the snake over. As she watches, a violent tremor passes through the usually steady digits._

_As the long, well-built body slides onto his arm, the Dark Lord admires the cool, smooth sensation of the reptilian's scales. "Nagini," he murmurs in Parseltongue as the serpent curls around his neck "I am weak. The Summoning Ritual has undermined me more than I predicted."_

_The snake's responding hiss is filled with concern._

"_Only for a short time," He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named replies. "My magic has been diluted so much that my magical core is in critical condition. Unfortunately, I am unable to perform Occlumency against Potter. Whether or not he is listening to us, I do not know." This was said bitterly, as if it offends him to admit that there is something he did not know about._

_There is a timid knock on the door. The Dark Lord calls out, his voice tired "Come in, Wormtail."_

_If it was possible, Nagini would have growled. She does not like that particular servant of her master. He is cowardly and greedy. Most likely, if the war does not go in the Dark Side's favor, he would abandon them and run back to whatever rodent hole he had come out of. _

_Grubby and small, the cowering man with watery eyes stumbles ungraciously into the room. Voldemort's eyes go to the ceiling as if to ask some unknown deity 'Why?' After the scruffy traitor, several cloaked Death Eaters files in as well, looking as serious and as anonymous as they always do whenever Nagini is around. Right now, Nagini smells the fear rolling off them in waves. She shifts in displeasure; something is wrong. They only ever felt this scared when they knew they were about to be punished. _

"_My lord." Wormtail's lips quivers with terror._

"_Yes, Pettigrew?" _

"_Please, milord," Pettigrew simpers. "It was not my fault, sir. I didn't know, I swear I didn't. If I had I would've told you at once, I promise I would've. You know I –"_

"_Wormtail!" interrupts Voldemort sharply and Nagini watches in half amusement, half disdain as the Death Eater flinches back. "Stop talking all this nonsense and get to the point!"_

_The man seems to brace himself as he says quickly "One of Hecate's brood has infiltrated Hogwarts castle."_

_Voldemort's nostrils flares, eyes darkening into an alarming burgundy color and as he stands –_

Nico nearly jumped out of his skin as a bloodcurdling scream of agony and rage ripped through the dormitory. He had been quietly reading the book he had extracted from the Restricted Section by the dim light of _lumos _and was startled to hear such an unearthly sound in the normally silent apartment. Quickly grabbing the thin stiletto he hid under his pillow, he leapt off his bed, distantly registering the fact that two of his roommates had fallen out of their bunks in surprise and flung open the red curtains that hid the bed from which the screech was emanating.

Harry was sitting upright crouched over his bent legs in bed and was shrieking in burning, blinding, anguishing, awful pain, pain, _pain! _His hands clawed desperately at the scar etched into his forehead from where the fire was spreading, and his eyes were wide open. The pupil had dilated by so much that the only sign of the iris Nico could see was a thin ring of vivid green of the otherwise black eye. They looked wildly at him and he could almost feel the searing agony his peer was going through. His nightclothes and bed sheets were soaked with sweat and Harry's skin had gone a distressing chalky white. His scar was enflamed, bright red and irritated from pain that Nico could not begin to comprehend.

Dropping his dagger onto the floor with a loud clatter, Nico whipped around to glare at Neville, Dean, Seamus and Ron. "What are you waiting for?" he barked out over Harry's pained keen. "Dean, go get McGonagall!"

The dark skinned boy nodded rapidly and fled the room, all traces of sleepiness gone.

Harry's limbs began to flail and Nico reeled back when his hand clipped his jaw. Wincing and sure that a bruise was going to form, Nico and Ron grabbed Harry's arms and legs, pinning him to the mattress. Harry struggled against them and even the son of Hades had to admit, he put up a good fight. He managed to land several blows on both boys. The-Boy-Who-Lived continued to cry out throughout this and tears of pain sprang into the enlarged eyes. Nico watched as the pupils shrank into mere pinpricks of black in the jade corneas and then converted again to overlarge craters.

Eventually, exhaustion got the better of Harry and as he resisted the pain, the clearer his head felt. Finally, he stopped screaming and gulped air raggedly. When they were sure he wasn't going to start up again, Nico and Ron released him and Harry fell back onto the bed, gasping. Shaking, he stared from one horrified face to another, several tufts of his hair curling with sweat, a trickle of dark blood coming from his reopened, infamous scar.

The only one who looked remotely calm was Nico. Panting from the physical exertion of trying to get Harry under control, the son of Hades asked flatly "What in the name of Zeus just happened?"

Almost at the exact same time, McGonagall, wrapped in a robe followed by Dean and – surprisingly – Hermione and Luna raced into the room. Hermione's eyes were wide with concern and worry while Luna looked like her usual dreamy and pensive self. She giggled when her eyes landed on Nico.

"Can't stay out of trouble, can you?" she asked, smirking.

Nico rolled his eyes but replied with a small, relieved smile. It comforted him, having her here and her unconcerned, airy attitude.

"Potter," McGonagall asked sharply before she took in her student's haggard, sickly appearance. The steel in her eyes lessened considerably and her voice gentled. "What happened?"

Harry swallowed and closed his eyes in order to lessen the hammering he was sure his brain was going through. "Not so loud, Professor," he whispered weakly. He took a breath. "I need to tell you in private. Can someone help me…" he trailed off and immediately Ron and Dean hurried to his aide, allowing the weakened boy to lean on them as they walked. As soon as Harry took a step, he stopped and a nauseated expression overtook his face. Nico got the impression that he was struggling not to vomit.

"Easy Harry," Luna giggled. "Don't rush if you don't want to be sick."

Harry swallowed and smiled weakly at her. "Thanks for the advice, Luna," he said hoarsely.

"What's wrong Harry?" asked Hermione, her voice trembling with worry.

"My head," he answered. "It feels like someone's bashing my head with a club."

McGonagall was about to say something when Hermione interrupted. "Oh, I know just the thing!" The girl darted out of the room in a blur of fluffy brown hair and Nico turned to Luna with a raised an eyebrow.

"How'd you get here?" he asked.

Luna grinned mischievously. "Heard the screaming and remembered the password from the last time I walked with you to the Gryffindor common room," she whispered into his ear with a wary look at McGonagall who was asking Harry questions in a low, soothing voice.

"Why's Ron's sister not here, then?" he asked. If Luna heard Harry's shriek from outside Gryffindor quarters, then surely the entire Lion Den population should be knocking the door down, especially Ginny.

Luna shrugged. "Some people can sleep like the dead when they want to."

"The dead don't sleep, Luna," said Nico, his voice holding an odd mixture of annoyance and amusement.

"Each to his own," the girl said with a smile.

It was at this time that Hermione came rushing back in, holding an assortment of colorful vials that Nico guessed held potions.

Dumping all the glass bottles on the bed, Hermione paused a moment before plucking a thin, blue one with the consistency of melted chocolate from the pile.

Eyeing the concoction severely, McGonagall asked warily "Is that a Headache-And-Nausea Correction Potion, Ms. Granger?"

The sixth year nodded ferociously as she handed it to Harry, who took it gingerly, as if it was a stick of dynamite that might go off at the slightest unsuspected movement.

"Is it safe?" questioned Dean nervously.

"Of course," said Hermione proudly. "Had it examined by Professor Slughorn and everything. Now Harry," her voice turned stern "I need you to drink half of this potion in small – and I mean _small _– sips. No gulping."

Harry nodded before tentatively taking a miniscule sip and grimacing at the sharp taste. Luna smiled sympathetically at him while Hermione made an encouraging motion with her hands. Harry frowned and sighed before bracing himself and taking another small drink from the vial. After about a quarter way through the potion, Harry seemed to have regained some color in his face and neck though his hands still trembled and there was still slight pain in his head. After finishing half of the medicine, Harry was praising Hermione's Potion skills and able to walk normally again.

"Good to see you're feeling better," said Luna cheerily.

Harry nodded and smiled.

McGonagall took his arm in a firm, strong grip. "Be that as it may, Mr. Potter, you are still required to go to the Infirmary and –"

"What!" Harry cried out. "No, professor. I feel much better, you see. I don't need to go to the Hospital Wing. What I need is to see Professor Dumbledore, right now!"

The Head of House stared at him with an undecipherable expression.

"Please, Professor! It's really, _really _important." Harry's eyes went wide with anxiety.

McGonagall bit her lip in thought before nodding in relenting.

"Thank you!" The occupants of the room watched as Harry raced out of the dormitory at an alarming rate for someone who looked like they were about to pass out after only taking a few steps.

* * *

><p>"He's weak," Harry stated as he sat on the chair in front of Dumbledore who was listening intently. "Very weak."<p>

The Headmaster's eyes went wide, but other than that there was no physical indication of surprise. "How?"

"He was telling his snake, Nagini, about a Summoning Ritual that drained his powers. He wasn't able to use Occlumency to keep me out, so that's how I was able to enter his mind." As Harry described his vision, Dumbledore's eyes darkened and he looked very disturbed.

"Are you sure he said 'Hecate'?"

Harry nodded and frowned. "What's Hecate?"

Dumbledore took a breath. "Harry, I need you to go to the Infirmary immediately."

The-Boy-Who-Lived stared. "Professor?"

"There are some things I need to attend to. Stay in the Hospital wing. Go."

Harry looked frustrated but left, wondering why the Headmaster never trusted him enough.

The grizzled man sighed in frustration before turning to survey his room. He called quietly, once he was sure Harry was really gone "I know you're here! Come out!"

"So what's this about my master?" asked a voice.

The elderly wizard blinked and twisted around in his chair to see a white-haired youth with dark gold eyes and bare feet step out of the shadows of the office. He was slim and lithe, wearing a dress shirt and black slacks that were slightly too long. The boy rolled his eyes at them. "I will honestly never understand you, Abe."

Dumbledore eyed the boy warily. "I'd really appreciate it if you would stop calling me that." The headmaster's voice had never sounded more resigned.

Costello grinned cheekily as he walked around the Headmaster's table to sprawl out in the chair that has previously occupied the Chosen One. "Whatever you say, Abe," he said with a shrug.

Dumbledore sighed.

"Now then," Costello said dismissively as he turned to face the Headmaster. "Let's get down to business, shall we?"

Suddenly, Dumbledore looked as if he would rather be anywhere else and similar to a caged dog who disobeyed its owner. "Costello," he said in a carefully composed voice "He doesn't know."

The boy's eyes flared as he stared at the grizzled old man across the table from him. "You promised you would tell him," he said icily.

"I never said when."

Costello growled angrily. "Listen, you manipulating old goat. You swore. You gave an oath. There are no loopholes when it comes to the Styx. Do what you promised or I swear the deal's off."

"You don't understand," Dumbledore argued. "This is a very big deal. Not many people even know about it, let alone Harry. I doubt he would even believe me if I told him."

The white-blond glared. "He's your savior for Pete's sake!" he roared. "If you keep coddling him, he'll never, and I mean never, survive out there! Voldemort will eat him for breakfast!"

Dumbledore smiled sadly at Costello. "There are certain things in his life that he needs to solve by himself."

The boy snorted. "So what? This is all a big test, now is it? You can't keep hiding the truth from him, Abe. Remember what happened last year?"

'Abe' shuddered. "Don't remind me," he muttered, his eyes closed.

"So what's all this about a summoning ritual?"

Dumbledore started. It always surprised him how easily the Greeks could change the subject. "I have a couple theories."

"Well, let's hear 'em." Costello shifted into a more comfortable position and waited impatiently.

"If Voldemort's trying to summon a God, I don't think any good will come of it," the wizard began. "He has spent the good part of his existence on Earth searching for a way out of Death's grip. He's scared of the fact that he's mortal and that he will eventually have to die."

"A ridiculous fear if I ever heard one," muttered Costello.

"So, I believe that he is attempting to capture Thanatos, the God of Death in order to strike a deal. Thanatos, in exchange for freedom, will leave Voldemort to keep on living."

Costello's brow furrowed as he thought. "It's a reasonable idea. I can't think of anything else he would be trying to do besides that."

Then the white-blond grinned maniacally. "It also means I'll have to alert Crypta of the situation, huh?"

The girl strode into the intimidating fortress without even a glance at the black, glittering stone or the sharp, severe battlements that stretch around the rectangular structure. Her head was held high with either confidence or pride, the servants of the castle couldn't tell which. Her steps were long and purposeful and she ignored the squawking harpies as they attempted to stop her. Once she passed the tall, concrete steps that lead into the battle-castle, she marched into the grand hall. Messy, thick curls were pulled back into a tight but rushed ponytail that sat higher on her head than necessary. Wearing the black, traditional Grecian style dress that bypassed her feet and pooled clumsily onto the floor, she seemed almost from another time and different than anyone had ever seen her before. Her facial features were undeniably pretty and young – only around thirteen at the least – but severely clever and cunning, reminding some people of a fox and less of her father. Her eyes were large and silver coloured surrounded by feathery lashes the same shade as her hair and dress. Her trademark black lipstick painted her lips heavily. Although beautiful, she seemed dangerous. The white of her eyeball was tinted red, as if she had a permanent case of pink eye and her skin was a sickly yellow colour.

She stormed angrily into the Throne Room and paid no attention to the large arching ceilings or chandeliers that decorated the impressive room. There was a long, russet-brown wooden table that reached across the length of the space. It was spread with the most delectable foods from all over the world, filling the area with wafting smells that would tempt even the strictest dietician. She then was greeted by perhaps one of the most beautiful creatures mankind had yet to meet.

He wore a black satin cloak, toga and sandals to match while his mahogany coloured skin was smooth and silk-like as he sat in an equally beautiful throne with cushions of black velvet and the wood gem-incrusted. His glittering eyes looked up, so much like the iridescent wings perched upon the middle of his upper back, turning different colors in the streaming silver light that the lamps produced in the hall. His beautiful soft yet masculine face broke out into a smile as the girl walked stiffly into the room revealing pearly white teeth in a dark mouth.

The man was surrounded by undead servants, all offering delicious smelling pastries and candies to the determined looking demigoddess as she approached the man in the throne. She waved away the offered food and stopped in front of the angelic god.

The man spread his arms in welcoming, as if to receive a hug and began "Crypta, what –"

But he was cut off by a sharp "SMACK!" that he heard before he felt. As his head whipped around on his slender neck, he was aware of a faint stinging in the right side of his face. There was a collective gasp from his servants. As his hand tentatively probed the tender red flesh of his cheekbone, he slowly turned to face his daughter, whose face was pale with indescribable fury and whose hand was red from the slap she had given.

"You idiot!" she seethed, her red tinged sclera standing out even more in her rage.

"Daughter," whispered the man in confusion. "Did you just hit me?"

"Of course Thanatos," she said haughtily as she crossed her arms, glaring.

Thanatos blinked in surprise. No one had ever had the courage or the plain stupidity to raise a hand to him before. The anger and offense had not set in yet.

"Why –"

Crypta interrupted again. "How, pray tell, did you come up with those absolutely _brilliant _loopholes, dear father?"

The god of Death frowned. "Loopholes…?"

"Horcruxes," Crypta deadpanned "The Sorcerer's Stone. Unicorn Blood. The Blood-Rite Ritual. I'm humoring you, Thanatos. _Why?_"

The Greek God paled. "I knew someday it would come back to bite me," he muttered.

"Oh, did you?" asked Crypta sarcastically.

"He's come back, hasn't he?"

"You don't know?" scoffed Crypta. "Wow. I didn't think you'd be so slow."

"Well, I have been a bit busy lately," Thanatos snapped defensively. "It's hard to stay in the loop when you have souls that need reaping.

"Well, sorry to disappoint, but he's trying to summon you."

"He got a hold of that too?" groaned Thanatos as he collapsed into his chair.

"You really need to guard your secrets more carefully," commented Crypta with a roll of her eyes.

Thanatos didn't reply.

"He's trying to capture you, you know."

The god nodded. "I know."

"This is your fault, you know."

"I know."

"You're going to give me a chest of drachmae, you know."

"Don't push it."

* * *

><p><strong>He he he! I am pure evil! That or I'm insane. Or both… Sorry for the wait! Damn you writer's block! *Shakes fist* <strong>

**Reviews are my life! I can't survive without them. So, go on and click that tempting little line saying 'Review this Story' under this message. Remember. Those who review please the authoress greatly.**


	8. Hogsmeade Horror

**Disclaimer: I own nothing!**

**Review**

The glittering, fat snowflakes fell thickly through the stifling cold air onto the slowly freezing grounds of Hogwarts, layering the hard, frozen ground with a dense blanket of soft, powdery snow. The trees of the Forbidden Forest were heavy with snow, their branches drooping from the amount of snow that they carried, the dark green and the bright white colors clashing beautifully. The group of students trudging out of the castle shivered and struggled to get their winter cloak hoods over their heads before they too were colored white from the icy precipitation. The eye-throbbing haze covered the sun and emphasized the white landscape spectacularly. As the Hogwarts students continued on towards the welcoming town of Hogsmeade no one noticed the gray-clad figure on the edge of the castle's borders, watching as the laughing teens made their way jovially to the village.

.

.

.

Nico glared at the twinkling lights that seemed to twine around every shop or house in Hogsmeade Village. For some reason (a reason I think we can all guess), Nico did not like the holidays. All the beautiful lights and decorations that held promises of love and family and friends and happiness always made him feel out of place; the generosity had never really seemed to apply to him. Also, all the carols and cheerfulness of everybody else was just plain annoying. Walking out into the pretty village with jolly people and flickering baubles made him feel more isolated than ever. Tightening the soft hood on his head suddenly, he glared angrily at the silver trimmings of the garment. He looked like an effing Christmas tree for Zeus's sake!

"Too bad it's the only winter cloak I have," he grumbled to himself as his feet shuffled through deep rifts of snow on the cobblestone street, his frozen thumbs shoved into the cloak's pockets. The only reason he was actually in Hogsmeade was the strange letter delivered at breakfast that morning during the post. A glossy black raven with beady eyes and a long beak had swooped down in front of Nico at the Gryffindor table. The bird had given him a disdainful glance before dropping off the cream colored envelope and flapping away. The letter inside had read in a thin, slanting handwriting he did not recognize

_Nico di Angelo, son of Hades_

_Your informant on the wizard's war and the part that demigods will play will meet you in the Three Broomsticks Café in Hogsmeade village on your free weekend this week. Be there._

He hadn't wondered about the mysterious letter. If it was a trap, then there would be several students from Hogwarts and their shadows to melt into and escape. And the person would only want him, so taking wizard hostages would be pointless as well. He had nothing to lose, so why waste a chance to meet up with someone from his world? Not to mention, being surrounded by people who didn't understand was becoming suffocating.

It had been approximately a week since Harry's awful nightmare episode and Nico was happy to say that there were no more unexpected screams coming from Harry when he was sleeping. But he had not managed to extract from Harry what the dream was about until Costello had passed on the second hand information after hearing the Boy-Who-Lived describing it to Dumbledore. Nico had been disgusted to realize that Voldemort was attempting to capture Thanatos and rather satisfied when Costello relayed that Crypta had slapped her father across his face in front of his servants in the Underworld as punishment for creating several escapes from his own grip. Thanatos had always had a rather curious complex about the power he controlled and seemed to have an infuriating habit for taking it out of proportion. It was, after all, his fault for creating the idea of Horcruxes and Summoning Rituals in the first place. He seemed to forget that it was the Fates who decided who lived and who died and that he only performed the task.

The snow was beginning to come down harder now, getting caught in Nico's lashes and hair which he blinked away irritably as they melted into cold wetness. Frowning as the chilled air soaked into his bones, he turned away from the outside and escaped gratefully into the wonderfully warm Three Broomsticks. Delicious smells of hot food and drinks wafted over Nico as he stepped into the roomy restaurant. There were several booths and tables dotted across the room, holding laughing students and teachers alike from Hogwarts and some inhabitants of Hogsmeade as well. Nico frowned at the festive decorations that adorned the room. Holly, mistletoe, and paper snowflakes were hung everywhere, and not a table went without a decorated, miniature Christmas tree sitting and sparkling in the center. Small, randomly placed snowmen danced around the room as they magically swung to the Christmas wizard classics playing in the background of the café, their snow-made feet gliding across the room as if the floorboards were actually ice. The blazing fire that sat in the corner danced to its own majestic tune as it flared in the Three Broomsticks' sooty fireplace, casting the room in a soft and cozy lighting, while the tall, lush and beautifully decorated Christmas trees sat in each of the four corners.

Ignoring the annoyingly flashy adornments, Nico strode up to the bar-counter calmly and sat down on one of the tall stools that sat in front of the table, rubbing together his hands together, as they were numb from the cold. He desperately needed something hot, or at least remotely warm, to drink.

He was distracted from his thoughts as he felt a small hand tugging on his cloak and heard a familiar, dreamy voice greet "Hey, Nico."

He glanced up at Luna before grunting as she sat down in the stool beside him. The girl was dressed similar to him, but had made the drab, black coat seem eccentric with splashes of paint that magically changed from eye-popping pink to neon green to bright orange and back again.

Luna smiled brightly at Nico's nonverbal greeting. "Why so hostile, Nicky?"

The son of Hades glowered at her angrily with a glare that made the toughest, meanest creatures run away shrieking.

Luna only grinned larger. "Did you have a bad day, Nicky?"

"Don't call me that," grumbled Nico. "And for your information, unless you count nearly freezing to death in this self proclaimed town, no I am perfectly fine."

The girl laughed mistily. "Well, okay then."

"Sometimes," said Nico aloud, "I wonder what the heck goes on inside your head. And then I stop those thoughts because to know would be terrifying."

"Me too," agreed a boyish voice behind them. Nico and Luna turned to see Neville holding a steaming mug filled with a strange red liquid and smiling shyly at them. "Me too."

"Hello Neville," said Luna, staring at him with those silver eyes that made people fidget as the boy sat down on the other side of her. "How are you?"

Neville shrugged. "I'm okay."

"Is it just me," began Nico in suspicion "or is anyone else disturbed by the fact that drink looks like blood?" He pointed at Neville's cup, who blushed profusely.

"Oh, is that Gremlin Nectar?" asked Luna. "Don't worry Nico, it's not really blood. It's just a drink that they serve here."

"Why do they call it Gremlin Nectar?" asked Nico warily.

Luna smiled mischievously. "Because gremlins are so sweet, of course." She reached over and snatched the mug from Neville.

"Hey!"

Luna brought the cup to her nose and inhaled deeply. "I wonder how it tastes," she muttered to herself before tentatively taking a sip. She frowned in thought before turning to the woman who was working behind the counter.

Nico rolled his eyes and turned away from the two and stared sleepily at his hands as if they were the most interesting thing in the world. He hadn't gotten much sleep last night. He was plagued by strange demigod dreams that centered on the prophecy that Professor Trelawney had given him but whenever he awoke, he never remembered what it was that he had dreamed about.

Nico hadn't been paying attention to the conversation and therefore was surprised when Luna thrust a cup into his hand filled with Gremlin Nectar.

Wrapping his hands around the hot mug warily, Nico took a small drink. He started. It _was _sweet. Almost _too_ sweet; he could feel the sugar melting in his mouth, making him thirsty. But it was hot and filled his stomach, so he drank it slowly and savored the taste. The warm, cozy atmosphere of the Three Broomsticks was very relaxing and Nico found himself leaning lazily back in his chair, watching the restaurant and its inhabitants through hooded eyes, his head swaying to the jazzy Christmas special that played in the back-round.

"_Oh, you charmed my heart and me out for Christmas,  
>So come with me, you sly little snake,<br>And enjoy all the memories we'll make  
>My love potion's strong<br>And your breath is sweet  
>So come with me for a Christmas treat!"<em>

He yawned loudly and felt his eyelids slip lower over his milky black iris, a soft, wavering tiredness coming over him all of a sudden. His neck leaned down to rest on his arms that were seated on the counter and he felt his breathing even, deep and slow. He sighed, content. And then he surrendered to the smooth, silky darkness that felt so blissful and sweeter than honey.

_Sounds. A symphony of sounds and sights and smells. Not all of them were pleasant. There was a woman screaming obscenities while a child whimpered weakly. A man hacked and coughed blood. A boy, maybe Nico's age, breathed raggedly as he lay in a gutter, not having much time left. But there were pretty sounds as well. A chorus of children sang with their young voices in perfect harmony before a casket. A man was whispered soothing words to his wife from his hospital bed. A mother recited a poem to her frail little daughter who was struggling to keep her eyes open. Nico knew that all those people who were dying were feeling the same tempting sleep come over them. They knew they were dying. And they were okay with that._

"Nico?" Luna's voice sounded concerned.

Nico woke with an audible gasp, eyes wide. Then he groaned and forced his eyes shut again. "What is it Luna?"

"Oh, I'm sorry," said the Ravenclaw sympathetically. "I didn't mean to wake you."

Nico cracked open an eyelid to stare at her. "It's a little late for that, Luna," he muttered sarcastically, but his words lacked the cutting sting he had intended them to have. It had been a while since he had dreamed about the deaths of mortals and it always caught him off guard with the compassion that flooded his system along with the dreams. It disturbed him.

Neville glanced at him. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah," Nico dusted an imaginary speck of lint off his cloaked shoulder crisply, his voice clipped. "Why wouldn't I be?"

Neville looked away nervously, his supposedly newfound confidence dissipating. "You just looked a little shell-shocked, is all," the boy murmured.

Nico frowned and turned away. He was unused to having people worry about him. Bianca and her annoying ministrations over every little cut or scratch seemed like a lifetime ago. He hadn't seen Percy or Grover in a while either, and he always dressed his wounds himself anyways. And heaven forbid his father actually admitted he _liked _Nico, let alone _cared_ about him. Knowing that he had actually made friends here bothered him. He was a demigod; death was an occupational hazard when you were in any way connected to the gods. He didn't want to leave any unintentional grief behind if he got careless and met an untimely death. Though, the idea that someone would miss him if that happened stirred an unexpectedly warm fuzzy feeling deep in his chest. Annoyed, Nico pushed that emotion aside.

'_Selfish jerk,' _he scolded himself. He glanced around. Luna and Neville had left the table to go talk to the Golden Trio which was sitting in a small booth in the corner. No sign of any demigods or monsters yet either. There wasn't any difference from the crowd's heartbeats or levels of power than any ordinary wizard, excluding Harry-damned-Potter of course. The fact that the Chosen One exuded Death from every pore on his body extremely unnerved Nico to say the least. He shuddered just thinking about it. It felt as if Thanatos was stalking him at every turn and it seemed to amuse his classmates to watch him grow jumpy whenever Potter was in close vicinity to him.

Nico started when he felt a hand grip his shoulder lightly and he whipped around rather violently to stare at a figure clothed in a gray trench-coat towering above him.

The person's cowl was up, obscuring his face from curious glances. The hand that grasped Nico's shoulder was a dark russet color, the fingers slender and spidery. Nico's nose, ever so sensitive, detected an odd odor that resembled a weird combination of spicy taco sauce, sooty sandpaper and acrid motor oil. Nico smirked. He knew who it was.

"Leo. I have to admit that I did not expect _you _of all people to be my informant."

Leo Valdes pulled off the hood with a grin. This nineteen year old man was a lot different than the shrimpy Hispanic teenager that Nico had known when he was thirteen. Leo, though still small for his age, was taller than when he was in his teen years and a couple inches taller than Nico, something that annoyed him to no end. His thick wild halo of springy black curls was still there, but cut short. His skin was the color of polished rust while his impish, lean facial features were still as elfish as ever, albeit older and more masculine than when he was a boy. The maniacal smile was definitely something he had kept from his childhood and kept Nico on his toes the entire time the son of Hephaestus was around. One thing was for sure; Leo sure could give the Weasley twins a run for their money.

"Hey, little cousin," Leo teased as he ruffled Nico's hair. "Still rocking the rebellious teenager thing?" He glanced over the other demigod's robes. "Or the 1600s…?"

Nico gave him a look and snapped his teeth at the hand that went to mess up his hair again.

Leo laughed as he withdrew his arm from further disaster. "Still temperamental, I see, even though the fashion sense seems to have evolved."

Nico sighed. "I forget what it feels like to actually wear clothes that don't make me feel like I'm in a display case."

Leo grinned and slumped into the spare stool next to his cousin. "Can't say I've ever felt that way before, though there was this one time..."

Nico rolled his eyes up to heaven. "Leo, I hate to interrupt and all, but you're here because…?"

Leo blinked. "Oh, right! Sorry." He coughed and smiled sheepishly.

"So?" Nico made a get-on-with-it gesture with his hands.

Leo reached into his coat pocket and rummaged for a bit before pulling out a writing-cluttered index card. At Nico's raised eyebrow he shrugged defensively. "Annabeth wrote them up for me! Trust me, it was NOT my idea, but she said she didn't want me to 'mess anything up'." He made a face.

The son of Hephaestus cleared his throat importantly before reading.

"The current legions of demigods have been in Britain for a period of about five weeks now fighting off any Death Eaters that appear in their assigned areas. We're spread out all over England from London to tiny countryside communities with a large population of magical creatures or people." The normally silly nineteen year old now spoke as if he was reading from an essay, his voice not holding any enthusiasm. "Of course," Leo added as he looked up from the paper "it's kind of hard to fight off the Death Gobblers and protect wizards when the magicky policemen show up. We're not supposed to be in England helping without the Ministry's permission so we have to disappear whenever they come to help. And that causes even more confusion. So that's where you, obviously, come in."

Leo glanced at Nico. "How's persuading the Ministry going?" He was wary, but at least he wasn't reading from the card anymore.

The son of Hades shrugged. "'Bout a quarter of them actually thinks we're decent by now. Another one thinks we're the devils in disguise. The other half are undecided."

"That's it?" Leo sounded disappointed.

Nico took a swig of his now-lukewarm Gremlin Nectar and scowled. "I'm _trying, _Leo. But I didn't think that the wizards would be so grudging towards us. Not to mention I'm not the nicest demigod in the world, thanks."

"There's the understatement of the century," Leo muttered.

Nico raised an eyebrow. "Sorry, did you say something? I didn't quite catch that."

"Who? Me? I didn't say anything," Leo amended innocently before casually changing the subject. He tossed the card at Nico. "There. Read up on what we've gone through later because I ain't saying anything more no matter what Annabeth has to say about it. Reading's for sissies."

Nico stared at him. "You just insulted all the literary geniuses of the world, Leo."

Leo grinned. "What's your point?"

Nico sighed.

Leo, ignoring the blatantly obvious exasperation of his companion said "Now that we've gotten all that icky government stuff out of the way, what're you planning to do for Christmas?"

Nico snorted. "Well, my irritating cousins are most likely planning to bully me into staying with them for vacation. Don't think I'll be able to put up with so much torture."

Leo gave a mockingly hurt look as he clutched at his chest. "Irritating? Is that what you think of us?"

Nico paused. "Pretty much, yeah."

"You're terrible." But Leo was laughing and the words had no cut.

Nico smirked. "And you're annoying."

Leo smirked back. "Thank you. I try very hard to be annoying. It's nice to have some recognition."

Nico rolled his eyes. "And Zeus knows you're very good at it," he said under his breath.

Nico grinned at Leo's mockingly smug look. Being with one of his own species made joking around a hell of a lot easier. He always felt paranoid with anyone else. Actually, he felt paranoid around everyone, but having someone trustworthy knowing who he was made it easier to relax.

A cold prickle skipped across the back of his neck suddenly. Nico stiffened and twisted around, expecting to see someone tracing his skin, but no one was there.

Leo frowned at Nico's sudden movement. "Nico?" he asked, concerned. "Are you okay?"

Nico turned back, his brow furrowing. "Y-yeah." Something was wrong. He knew it.

A commotion at the back of shop captured their attention. Some girl – Katie Bell, Nico recognized from Gryffindor – had just exited the women's bathroom. She was quarrelling with one of her friends. A squarish package wrapped in black velvet was gripped tightly in her hand.

Her words carried over to Leo and Nico. "I need to give this to Professor Dumbledore." Her tone was frightening; smooth and docile, but lacking emotion. Something was definitely wrong.

"Where'd you get it?" asked her friend – Leanne, Nico recalled. "You didn't have it before."

"It's important," Katie said monotonously.

"Katie, what's going on?" The girl's voice was shrill and loud with worry.

"I need to go to Dumbledore."

"You're scaring me."

She didn't answer. She just walked out the door jerkily, as if she had no control over her movements, her friend running after her.

Nico swallowed and grabbed at Leo. "C'mon. Something's up with Katie."

As the two walked out of the shop and into the freezing cold, Leo said aloud as Nico dragged him along "What's going on?"

"I don't know," Nico replied as they trailed behind the two girls, who were beginning to argue louder. "But I intend to find out."

They were shouting now. They watched as Leanne threw out her hand to grab Katie's shoulder and the girl retaliated. The two grappled for a couple minutes and the box went flying into the powdery snow. It cracked open and a beautiful necklace tumbled onto the ground. It glittered in the light and Nico could make out opals and silver. A tingle shot up his spine and he stared as Katie leapt away from her friend and grabbed at the necklace before the other girl could get to it.

"N-no!" He shouted, stumbling over to where they were. He knew there was something dangerous about that necklace. But he was too late.

He heard Katie take a sharp breath. Everything seemed to slow down. He was nearly next to her one second and the next, she had shot up six feet into the air like a bird, fast and fluid. Her dark hair curled around her, floating in a blackish-brown cloud like she was underwater. Her eyes were pressed tightly shut and would've seemed peaceful if not for her mouth, which was open and gaping, as if screaming. But there were no words or any sound of any kind coming from her. And then, she slammed into the ground, as if thrown and horrible shrieking emanated from her as she twitched and thrashed on the ground.

Leanne's face was slack with horror and Leo still hadn't moved from behind Nico. He was faintly aware of voices shouting from behind him.

"I didn't know," Leanne whispered, her face terrified. "I had no idea."

Nico turned around and found Harry, Hermione and Ron running towards them. Katie was still trapped in her spasm and her screams were getting louder. A large, towering shape lumbered over behind the Golden Trio and Nico flinched as Hagrid laid a heavy hand the size of a skillet on his shoulder.

"Nico." The man's gravelly, accented voice was deadly serious. "Take 'er tah the Infirmary. Whateva it takes."

Nico understood. "Leo," he said, turning to his cousin "Stay with them. I'll be back in a second."

Leo nodded rapidly and flashed a strained grin in his direction.

Nico leaned over the girl's jerking body and grabbed her struggling arm in a bruising grip. A shadow flashed over them and they were gone. The only evidence that they had actually been there was the body-like indentation in the snow and their footprints which were already rapidly filling with still-falling flakes.

**Booka: Mwahahaha! It's my first cliffhanger! Yeah! The suspense is killing you! I know it is! Don't bother denying it. *Ahem* And onto more sane news.**

** Sorry for the wait. I've been really busy over the past few weeks and it's been taking a while to write. But here's the next chapter and I hope you enjoy! **

**I was listening to Blackbirds by Linkin Park while writing this and oddly enough it reminded me of Nico. If you've never heard of it, I seriously recommend listening to it. If you already have, good for you.**

**Review!**

**Review!**

**REVIEW!**

**No pressure. **


	9. Define The Word: Hero

**Previously in SODAH:**

"_Nico." Hagrid's gravelly, accented voice was deadly serious. "Take 'er tah the Infirmary. Whateva it takes."_

_Nico understood. "Leo," he said, turning to his cousin "Stay with them. I'll be back in a second."_

_Leo nodded rapidly and flashed a strained grin in his direction. _

_Nico leaned over the girl's jerking body and grabbed her struggling arm in a bruising grip. A shadow flashed over them and they were gone. The only evidence that they had actually been there was the body-like indentation in the snow and their footprints which were already rapidly filling with still-falling flakes. _

**Now, continued:**

"Hagrid," whispered Hermione. "Where did they go?"

The half-giant smiled tightly. "Don' worry Mione. Nico's taken Katie tah the Infirmary. She'll be righ' as rain, you'll see."

"But, how did he do that?"

Hagrid gave her a dark look. "Tha's fer Nico tah tell, not me."

Harry kneeled carefully in the snow next to the glittering necklace that still lay haphazardly on the powdered ground. It shimmered beautifully in the sun and Harry fought the urge to run a bare finger over the gem's cool smooth surface.

As if sensing his thoughts, Hermione warned "Don't touch it, Harry. It's more than likely dangerous."

Harry squinted and looked closer at the jeweled chain. It seemed familiar in a way; he could have sworn he'd seen those opals somewhere before…

"Borgin and Burkes!" he yelled suddenly.

Ron started and stared at Harry as if he'd gone insane. "What?"

"That necklace," Harry said firmly "I've seen it before. It was on display in Borgin and Burkes, the shop in Knockturn Alley. It had a warning sign on it. Said it was cursed."

Hermione swallowed. "That explains the screaming."

There was the sound of quiet sobbing and Harry realized that Leanne had tear tracks on her face and her shoulders were shaking. The man that Nico had arrived with was standing awkwardly at her side and he was making 'Help me!' eyes at Hermione. The girl sighed, exasperated as she wrapped her arms comfortingly around Leanne.

"Who're you?" Hermione asked the man.

"Uh," the man shifted foot to foot nervously under her stare. "Leo Valdes. I'm Nico's cousin."

Now that he listened, Harry could detect the strange accent that Nico and Leo seemed to share. There was, however, no resemblance. Leo looked Latino with dark skin, hair and eyes while Nico was as pale as a vampire and traditionally Greek and maybe Italian, considering his last name.

"You don't look much alike," Ron commented casually.

Leo shrugged. "We're related by marriage, so I'm not surprised." He had one of those laid back attitudes judging by his careless, casual posture but at the same time was slightly intimidating; in a good way, of course.

Harry turned away from the conversation and, making sure his hand was covered with the velvet wrappings, cautiously picked up the silvery necklace. Even with the black fabric protecting his hand, he could feel a cold burning through the material. As he carefully laid the jewellery in the box, a shadow flitted over the town clearing and Nico stood calmly where he had disappeared, which just so happened to be right in front of Harry.

"Ah!" Startled, Harry fell back in the snow.

Nico jumped at Harry's cry and said something Harry didn't understand but was most definitely a curse. It sounded like a different language, but he couldn't be sure.

Nico gave the Boy-Who-Lived a withering look, hiding his alarm. "You scared the hell out of me," the gothic boy grumbled as he helped Harry up from a snow drift.

Leanne stopped crying abruptly and looked up sharply. "Where's Katie?" Her voice was choked and thick.

"In the hospital wing," replied Nico, slightly breathless from shadow travelling so rapidly without preparing himself. "Madame Pomfrey's taking care of her now." His eyes landed on the box which still lay on the ground. Thankful that he had worn his thick leather gauntlets, the son of Hades leaned over and picked the container up, carefully closing it as he did.

"Yeh need tah take tha' to Madame Pomfrey," Hagrid spoke up.

Nico looked up and gulped, knowing that shadow travel was required again. "All of you, get back to Hogwarts." And once again, he disappeared.

He landed in the center of the Infirmary, dizzy from the rapid travel. He noticed that Katie was lying comatose on one of the hospital bed, staring up at the ceiling unblinkingly. For a moment, he froze, fearing that she was dead. But then he saw and felt the shallow lift and drop of her chest as she breathed and relief flooded through him.

The harried form of Madame Pomfrey jerked him from his thoughts. "That's what cursed her, I take it?" She seemed anxious and worried, something that concerned Nico.

He nodded hurriedly. "Yeah, this is it." He held out the box and watched as she took it in her hands and opened it.

"Get Professor Snape." Her voice was a whisper. "He knows more about curses than I do. Go. _Now._" Her tone was urgent and the grays in her mousey brown hair were more prominent as her face paled.

Nico looked at her, blinking rapidly in alarm as he grabbed the package in a panic from the nurse. He stumbled backwards and melted into the wall where he should have hit hard stone and he was gone in a mold of shadows.

He reappeared inside the DADA Professor's office and was surprised to see one of the Seventh Year girls and the teacher arguing loudly and harshly.

"Thirty points from –" Snape cut off and stared uncomprehendingly at the teenager who just smoked into the room from a darkened corner of his office.

Cho Chang, the seventh year Snape had been quarrelling with, had her mouth hanging down to the floor after witnessing the new transfer student emerge from the shadows like a demon. _He wasn't even holding a wand!_

"Di Angelo! What is the meaning of this? Are you so insolent to ignore what the Headmaster told you in the beginning of the year?" _What had the demigod been thinking?_

The boy looked rather wildly from both people in the room. The teen looked frightening in the dim lighting of the office. His cheeks were uncharacteristically flushed red from the cold air of the outside and his breathing was erratic. His black eyes were glittering with an emotion neither student nor teacher could pinpoint. Fear? Glee? Apprehension? They couldn't tell. "Katie Bell's cursed! Madame Pomfrey needs you, right now. It's an emergency. I swear, I only did it 'cause I had to. Sorry!"

By this time, Professor Snape had stood abruptly, nostrils flaring.

He turned to Cho, eyes stern. "I expect that no one will hear of this news yet, will they, Miss Chang?"

Cho nodded numbly, still staring at Nico.

The demigod knew that in the next ten minutes every single student in the entire building would know of Katie Bell's condition and Nico's mysterious appearance.

Snape's arm stiffly swung up and was extended to Nico. "Mr. di Angelo, I trust that nothing fatal will occur during our transportation."

Nico nodded rapidly. "Don't worry, sir. I've been doing this for years." He grasped the older man's forearm in a tight grip before smiling to himself. Snape was in for the ride of his life. Then, in a flash of black, both were gone from sight.

.

.

.

"It's not a curse, di Angelo. It's poison," Snape announced as he strode out of the Hospital Wing, apparently over his irritation for the purposely rocky transportation he had suffered through earlier.

Nico turned around to face the former Potions Master, an eyebrow raised incredulously. "What?"

Snape snorted, glaring. "You heard me. It's _poison."_

Nico paled.

_Poison flows from the deepest pit / It's antidote falls from the tallow's drip._

_The prophecy. _

"What kind of poison?"

"Essence of Tartarus."

_Tartarus… The _deepest pit_ in the Underworld._

"I take it you know what and where that is."

"Yeah." Nico closed his eyes, nodding slowly. "I know. But what does that have to do with me?"

"The antidote is rather… hard to obtain. Unfortunately, I'm unaware of anyone else who has access to it other than you." The man's lip curled with disgust.

"What's the antidote?"

"Essence of Elysium." Snape sneered at him. "I thought you would've been able to guess. My mistake."

_Dead black voids of one's lost love / Find answers in Elysium with the ones of the dove._

"We're feeding her a toxin-suppressing drip, but it will only hold out for so long," Snape continued, eyes searching Nico's.

"How long does she have?" His voice was a whisper.

"Two days at the least. You need to hurry, di Angelo. We can only wait for you for so long. If you dawdle for too long, the girl will die. I'd go quicker if I were you," Snape drawled with a smirk.

Nico's eyes narrowed. "You make it sound like it was my fault, professor."

Snape scowled before growling, tone threatening "For all I know, it might as well be. Your kind never was very trustworthy. You hide secrets. Don't deny it."

Nico's mouth twisted into a snarl and his voice was lowered to a whisper. "I'm not the one with the Dark Mark on his arm, sir. Forgive me if I don't confide in you firsthand." He turned away, walking swiftly away before throwing over his shoulder "Sorry I can't stay, but I have a life to save." And then he walked right into his own dark silhouette that was thrown up against the stone wall and sunk away into oblivion.

.

.

.

Elysium. It truly was a slice of heaven, surrounded on all sides by the dull sea of stalks of wheat and grain that were the Fields of Asphodel. Far away, though they were faint but still present, Nico could make out the soft screams of the damned in the Fields of Punishment.

The beautiful golden gates of heaven opened up obediently for the son of Death, glittering and a wonderful sight to behold. The white cobblestone pathway that Nico followed was clean and pure, so perfect to walk upon. The sky was a clear, pretty blue with wisps of clouds floating gently above. Nico knew it was an illusion, as they were currently far below Los Angeles at the moment, but he didn't complain. It was wonderful scenery. The houses that surrounded him on either side were cozy and painted rich pleasing colors of their inhabitants choice, some a twinkling periwinkle that reminded Nico of the eyes of a certain school headmaster, others a vibrant yellow. The tall green street sign that towered above the sixteen-year-old read in curling white script _Blessed Boulevard. _Cheesy name but suitable, Nico observed as he wandered down the lane. It was quiet and peaceful since there were no cars in heaven. The few that were allowed ran softly and without noise. There were several people strolling around, some young and carefree, most old and serious. All were happy, all were content. There were no sad faces in Elysium.

The house that he was looking for was a pleasant cherry red color with a dark brown door and polished brass knocker. There was also was a pale doorbell. A sign red in a familiar, girly hand _Please knock! Bell is out of order! :)_

Nico obliged and waited patiently as he heard a large pair of feet stomp over to the door and heard a muffled voice talking good-naturedly and a loud, deep laugh. The door swung open. A large, bulky African American dude wearing baggy pants and a slightly too-large sweatshirt was behind it. Though he looked imposing, he was caught mid-snicker and his dark brown eyes were glittering loudly with laughter, easing his vicious appearance. His coarse black hair was cropped short and even though he had muscles like a professional ballplayer and a short sword strapped to the side of his hip, he looked completely at ease.

When his eyes landed on Nico, they lit up in surprise. "Nico?"

The son of Hades smiled. "Hey, Beckendorf. How's heaven turning out?"

The son of Hephaestus stared in shock. "Pretty good, actually. What're you doing here?"

Nico smirked. "I haven't seen you in – what, three years, and all I get is 'what're you doing here'? You always were very good with people Charlie."

Beckendorf coughed and blushed, which looked odd on his dark skin and large body and said gruffly, "Well, you know…"

Nico laughed and clapped him on the shoulder. "I'm joking, Beckendorf. Loosen up a little."

"Uh… joking, yeah!" He smiled, flashing white teeth, the awkward moment passing.

A smooth, feminine voice broke into the conversation like a knife through butter. "I hope you're not keeping our visitor stranded outside, Charlie. I wouldn't want to be a bad hostess."

Nico grinned as Charlie moved aside and allowed him to step through the threshold. "Nice to see you too, Silena."

SilenaBeauregard. She always was one of the prettiest demigods Nico had ever seen and even in death she continued to be just as beautiful. Her curly blonde hair was swept up into a loose ponytail, while some wisps escaped and curled around her cherubic face. Her chocolate brown eyes were deep and gorgeous and her make-up was very little. Even wearing old sweats and an old t-shirt, she looked absolutely amazing, expressing just how comfortable she felt in her own skin.

Nico smiled at her. "You're just as lovely as ever, I see."

She laughed as she looked him over. "Me? Look at you! My Gods, Nico! What happened to you? The last time we talked, you were a scrawny little twelve-year old!"

He grimaced. "I guess I changed a bit since the last time we met, huh?"

As they ushered him into their living room, Nico noticed how cozy and comfortable the place seemed. There was a dark brown sofa with stylish accents in the middle of the place. A large TV was set up opposite them and a glossy coffee table was in front of them as they sat on the couch. The ceiling was high and arched with a crystal chandelier gleaming down at him.

Silena gazed at him firmly. "Nico, we both know that you didn't come here for just a pleasurable visit with old friends. What do you want?" Her voice wasn't mean, just stating the facts and he respected that.

"…And so, I figured that since you're the daughter of Aphrodite, the Lady of the Doves, you must be connected to the prophecy somehow." Nico finished his story and searched the demigoddess's face for recognition or realization or something that meant he had found his lead.

Silena frowned and shook her head apologetically. "I'm sorry, Nico, but I've never heard of the Essence of Elysium before. I wish I could help, I really do, but I have no idea. Sorry."

Nico was frustrated, understandably so. But he forced a smile to his face and politely thanked them for their time. As he walked dejectedly out of their happy little home, he heard Silena call after him "And Nico?"

He turned and looked at her.

"You know, you're always welcome to come back and visit." She smiled. "If you spend too much time on your own, you'll end up dead. So come over when you can."

He returned the smile and watched as she disappeared back into her house. He said softly, even though he knew she wouldn't hear "I'd like that."

He wandered around Elysium for a time before he stumbled upon a familiar looking intersection. Flocks of white and gray birds were fluttering around the extravagant fountain that spouted silvery plumes of water into the air. Feathers floated through the air and upon the water in the structure. The square was deserted by people except for two very familiar girls. One of them was splashing around in the bowl of the fountain, laughing and shouting as she stomped her feet in the liquid. The other was watching, grinning as she sat on the edge of the bowl, squealing loudly as she was splashed. She beamed and laughed along with the other one.

The two girls were identical in every physical way possible but they were drastically different as well. The one splashing around was wearing rolled up jeans that were soaking and a gray t-shirt that was equally drenched. Nico knew that she had long shaggy brown hair underneath that woolen cap she was wearing. Her face was rounded with a blunt chin and large eyes with small lashes. The other girl was wearing a lacy, delicate blouse and a knee-length, black skirt with prints of flowers on it. Her dark hair was short and curly but her face was identical to the other's. They were around the same age as well. Thirteen or younger.

They spotted Nico.

"NICO!" They screamed, racing towards him.

Before he registers it, he was surrounded by the two.

"Where've you been?" asked Number One.

"How are you, Nicky?" said Number Two.

"Do you know how long the last time you visited was?" Cap-Girl's hand was on her hip and she glared at the son of Hades angrily as she tapped her foot against the ground expectantly.

"Hey guys." Nico smiled at them.

"Hey guys? HEY GUYS? We haven't seen you in six months and the only thing you can say is HEY GUYS?" Cap-Girl tried to lunge at him but Flower-Girl held her back with her hand caught in Cap-Girl's t-shirt.

He smirked at them. "Nice hat by the way."

Immediately, Cap-Girl stopped struggling and grinned at him. "Thanks. Rosie got it for me," she said, gesturing to her twin.

Rosie beamed and hugged her sister, ignoring the fact that she was drenched to the bone. "Well, it's Mickey here who gave me a bouquet of Ever-Lasting flowers for our Death Day!"

Mickey frowned and stared at her. "No I didn't. I got you a karaoke machine."

"Then who got me the flowers?"

Nico glanced around and only half-listened as the two went on chattering about things that were of little importance. His gaze swept over the birds that were fighting over a piece of bread in the middle of the intersection.

He froze.

_The birds were doves. _

'_Find answers in Elysium with the ones of the dove,' _flew through his mind.

Nico turned and stared up at the street sign which read _Dove's Cove. _

The son of Hades looked at the fountain. The top of the fountain was a statue which depicted a scene of a small baby sleeping in a cradle, with a dove perched on its pillow.

He turned around to face the twins again, who were arguing rather noisily.

"I told you, Michelle, for the last time…!"

"DON'T CALL ME MICHELLE!"

"Why not? It's your name!"

"Guys!" Nico interrupted.

"WHAT?" Both girls turned on him.

"Do you two know anything about the Essence of Elysium?"

Their jaws dropped before Rosie recovered enough to ask suspiciously "How'd you know about that?"

"Well, duh, his dad's the lord of the Underworld." Mickey rolled her eyes. "Well, demigod, what about it?"

"A… friend of mine got poisoned recently with the Essence of Tartarus."

Rosie gave a sympathetic, albeit loud gasp before nodding sadly. "And you need help finding the cure?"

"Yeah…" Nico felt awkward with Rosie looking at him with that amount of pity.

"Well, okay then," said Mickey shortly. "We could take you to it if you need it that badly."

"Really?" Nico raised an eyebrow. "You know where it is?"

The girls nodded. "We can show you!" they said in unison, grabbing onto his hands and pulling him away from the fountain.

As the two dead mortals pulled him through crisscrossing lanes of Heaven, Nico soon found himself in front of a large, tall gate that while was similar to the gates of Elysium, was different in color and stature. It was glittery silver and rather intimidating to anyone who might've thought to try and sneak in as it was too strong to break open and too high and smooth to try and climb. It surrounded a large, gleaming blue lake with crystal water and white, soft sand. In the distance, Nico could see the green, bright vegetation growing in the middle of the land mass. It was a beautiful sight.

"The Isles of the Blest," said Mickey. There was something eager and proud in her voice. "Our home." Her hand tightened its grip on Nico's sleeve and she tugged on him harder than before.

As they stumbled into the fenced off area, Rosie coaxed Nico into a pure white rowboat. Even though he knew that he was in his father's territory and that Poseidon had no control there, Nico still felt the instinctual repel from anything having to do with either water or the sky. A sick, roiling feeling turned over in his stomach as Rosie and Mickey rowed slowly out to the islands. He could see the blessed people shrieking with laughter and singing and dancing along the shore. The bile rose in his throat even at the pleasant view and he turned away, struggling with keeping his stomach under control.

"You okay there, Zombie Boy?" called Mickey from the front of the boat as the oars swept into the water.

Nico kneaded his hands into his eyes. "Not really," he answered with a grunt.

"Don't worry, we're almost there," said Rosie soothingly.

"Gods, I hope so," he groaned into his arms, feeling acidic liquid fighting its way up his throat.

Not as quick as he would have hoped for, they were on solid ground and Nico was seriously contemplating kissing the sandy dunes he had collapsed on. He felt his fluttering heartbeat slow and he evened out his breathing. He heard Mickey laugh loudly and Rosie scolding her rather severely.

"Ugh," he moaned as he forced himself to sit up and was greeted with two twin faces looking on at him, one in concern and the other in humor.

"You don't look too good, Nico," said Mickey with a laugh.

Rosie smacked her arm, warning her with a glare. Turning her gaze to the son of Hades, she asked in a worried tone "Can you continue? We understand if you can't."

Nico waved her concern away with a hand and struggled to stand. "No, it's okay. I'm fine, really, but thanks anyways. So where's the cure?"

Mickey and Rosie exchanged glances before nodding at him and leading him towards the town in the center of the island. Nico trailed behind, sending the lake behind them a dirty look as he did.

The entire village was a circle, an empty space where the town square was. All the occupants of the island were cheerful and happy, laughing and joking and having a good time in the afterlife. Nico hadn't noticed before but now he realized that there was a silvery creek running through the middle of the island. The water looked icy and cold but beautiful and inviting in the heat of the tropical isle.

Gesturing dramatically to the thin river, Mickey said loudly "…And I give to you, The Essence of Elysium." She bowed mockingly at Nico. "After you, my highness!"

Rosie laughed and nudged Mickey in the ribs, grinning.

Nico rolled his eyes and stifled the smile threatening to leap up onto his face. "Yeah, yeah, sure. Let's just get this over with."

Mickey smiled. "Your wish is my command."

They all trotted over to the glistening brook, a glassy vial appearing in Rosie's hand before she turned and thrust it into Nico's. "Now all you have to do is get some water into this –" she gestured at the flask "– and you have your antidote."

Nico raised an eyebrow. "Is that it?"

Mickey jutted out her hip defensively. "What? Did you _want _to have to fight off a three-ton drakon or something?"

Nico shrugged. "Sorry. Just thought it'd be more of a challenge."

Rosie gave a laugh and patted his shoulder. "Don't worry Nico; I'm sure Zeus will send something interesting your way soon enough."

Grumbling about stupid dead girls, he took the vial and tried to get as close as he could to the rushing stream, which was harder than he cared to admit as the rocks were slick with water. He took off his shoes as to get better footing before he dared to bend over and scoop up the liquid in the container. Stumbling back with the precious substance, he very nearly fell into the river, swaying precariously over the stream before Mickey and Rosie grabbed him.

Falling back onto the pavement, he gasped, having not even realized he had been holding in his breath.

"Gods!" Nico exclaimed. "I've got it. I've got it." He clutched the vial tighter and heard the twins laughing, but he didn't care because he had the antidote. Katie was saved.

* * *

><p><strong>Booka: Yay! Nico's a hero! *Happy dance*<strong>

**Nico: *looks at Leo* What's up with her?**

**Leo: She's just excited. She did finally finish a chapter after all. **

**Nico: Yeah, she has a bad habit of making her readers wait, doesn't she? *Hits Booka over the head* Bad author!**

**Booka: Ah, shut up!**

**Leo: Ya know what would make her **_**really**_** giddy? **

**Nico: What?**

**Leo: Reviews. They make her high for some reason. **

**Nico: *raises eyebrow in a very Snapelike fashion* Weird…**

**Booka: No, weird's being able to raise the dead with McDonald's Happy Meals. So remember kiddies, if you don't want Nico to meet an untimely death dealing with food poisoning, you'll review. **

**Nico: You wouldn't!**

**Booka: Don't tempt me! **

**Nico: *Puppy eyes* REVIEW!**


	10. Bloody, Bloody Christmas

**Booka: Glad to see all of my loyal readers with me so far. Aren't you so proud of me and my update? Me too.**

**Okay, I've received a few comments on Leo's relation to Nico. Let me explain; you might wanna write this down: Hades and Zeus are brothers. Hades is Nico's father. Zeus is Hephaestus's father. Hephaestus is Leo's father. Hephaestus is Nico's cousin. So that makes Leo Nico's **_**second**_** cousin. So no complaints about Nico being Leo's uncle or aunt or whatever. I did my research. **

Christmas. Gods, he hated that holiday. He felt more alone than ever because of it. Every year, he woke up on his own and cold and angry. It felt worse than ever now because he was in his old home. His _real _old home; not at Camp Half Blood or in the Underworld. The house he and his sister had grown up in with their mother, Maria. _She should have died here, safe in bed, old and not like she did because of the gods _he thought bitterly, his eyes still closed against the bright morning light. He didn't want to get up, not now, not ever, especially not here. But he was grateful to be away from the Wizarding School right now. It had been over two weeks since the Katie Bell incident and people were still staring at him in odd like he was some sort of war hero… Now that he thought of it, he technically was since he had fought in the Second Titan War and Gaia's Uprising. But that didn't mean he wanted to be treated like a deity, no matter how godly his blood was. It was getting annoying. It had gotten so bad that he had taken to cursing Cho Chang to the deepest pits of hell in his head whenever he passed her in the hallway. The Golden Trio had asked far too many questions for his taste when he had seen them after that day. Even Harry – whose control Nico had always grudgingly admired – has been unable to curve his ever-growing curiosity. A few minutes of stony silence and sarcastic remarks had them backing off rather quickly, but the interested glances that the three had been casting him had been rather disconcerting. Others bolder (or stupider) than the three had peppered him with annoying inquiries and he was getting rather tired of fending off their advances on his patience and he was grateful to be away from the unrelenting torture of his fellows.

But despite the indirect rescue from his overzealous admirers, he found himself wishing that he was in Camp Half Blood instead.

It was a tall, dark Victorian style house with glossy, polished wood and a large porch with the old rickety swinging bench. The cushion was threadbare and well-loved, just like he remembered it. His room was untouched; hell, the whole house was untouched as Hades had bought it after Zeus killed Maria. It was a memorial of a sort, Nico liked to think as her body had been too damaged by the lightening to give a proper burial. If he concentrated hard enough, he was sure he could hear her voice and smell the lingering flowery smell of her Italian perfume that she always seemed to love. As a reward, Hades had given him back his memories after a particularly hard mission and he treasured them now just as hard as he had when he had regained them.

Nico groaned as the sun strengthened and penetrated his screwed-shut lids. He turned on his side, pillow clamped tightly over his head before sighing and blinking open his eyes. It took a moment to focus his vision on his surroundings and when he did, he sighed. It wasn't a dream; he was still here, in his old room. The walls were a pale olive green and were plastered with old, very old posters of 1930s cartoons and celebrities. The bedclothes were a dark blue and pinstriped while the curtains were delicate and lacy, making it known for the world to see that his mother had helped him decorate the place. There were some crude, but rather eager sketches stapled up all around the former ten year old's bedroom. His old aviator jacket, which was now too small for him to wear, was hanging on the hook that was screwed into his bedroom door.

It was like he had never left, like he was still in his former life, the life that he had always wanted to have again. It was at times like these when he actually felt like his real age. He buried his head back into the scratchy, soap-smelling material of his pillow and he refused to acknowledge the ache that was tight in his chest.

_Get up, you baby. _

He reluctantly threw the covers off himself and sat up. His hair was severely rumpled from sleep and his vision was blurred with tiredness.

_Still so weak! Fight, you idiot! _

His mind was still half-drenched in dreams, which was weird because he never had normal dreams or nightmares; he only had demigod visions and black sleep, no dreams. But tonight he had a nightmare and his father, Hades, had been fighting him with his staff, testing him but hurting him in the process. It wasn't a dream; it was more of a memory. He felt so morbid in that moment; like Dracula. He laughed at himself and at the comparison.

_Wow, you really are turning into a Zombie Boy, aren't you? _

He slowly showered and dressed and he felt oddly light-hearted for Christmas. He almost always woke up in a black mood on Christmas but today was different. He wasn't upset, but he wasn't happy either. Neutral, he decided for now.

_Wait, what's that? _Sounds and laughing voices drifted up from downstairs. Nico stiffened. He recognized those voices and he knew that nothing good would come of today. He sighed and combed his hair with his fingers. Thinking he looked okay enough for the current company, he pulled on another sweater as it was cold today and walked down the stairs.

Three teens were seated in the house's living room which was decorated with flower-printed furniture and curtains, an extremely outdated television and a large coffee table. A good-looking man with silky black hair like Nico's but shorter cut and large sea-green eyes was splayed out on the cushy armchair. A girl with choppy, black hair and electric blue eyes so vibrant you had to look away had her feet on the coffee table and was lounging on the couch with the familiar Spanish form of Leo. They all held hot mugs of eggnog and were munching on soft sugar cookies.

The girl looked up when Nico descended the staircase. "Hey, Death Boy!" she jeered, but her tone was affectionate. Unlike the boys, if you looked closely you could see the shimmering cloak of immortality layering her skin. She wore black and silver clothing and jewelry with clunky combat boots that were scuffed up and torn black jeans that had seen better days. A silver circlet sat lopsidedly on her spiky hair and her skin was light colored just like most of the people in the room. She grinned and her pretty, youthful features seemed to rejoice. She was slim and well-built with a lithe figure that had people guessing that she regularly worked out. A silver quiver and bow was propped up on her right and her fingers occasionally strayed to it unconsciously, as if she had been using it for years and was rather uncomfortable to have it out of her reach.

The man with the green eyes laughed. "Nico! How are you?" A smile cracked his handsome face and the pretty orbs sparkled happily. The man was very young, but not a teen as was obvious and he seemed to be around Leo's age, maybe older. He was awfully good-looking with a masculine jaw-line and a straight nose. There was a streak of gray in the glossy black locks despite his youth and he wore a bright neon orange t-shirt with bolded Ancient Greek letters that spelled out 'Camp Half Blood'. Nico could see his beaded necklace clinging to his throat just like his own, expressing his heritage even more than the t-shirt.

Leo looked strangely morose even surrounded by his old friends. His thin, tanned arms were cradling a large tub of ice cream and he was slowly shoveling the dessert into his mouth forlornly. "Hey, kid," he mumbled sadly through his spoon, looking disinterestedly into the container, creamy liquid dribbling down his chin. He wore oil-spattered blue jeans and a nondescript windbreaker with the symbol of Hephaestus on the back; a bright red flame. His beaded necklace was wrapped tightly around his neck just like Nico and the boy's.

Nico's eyes flickered from one to another. He turned to the girl. "What's up with him?" he asked, jerking his head towards the depressed-looking Latino.

The girl smiled, eyes grinning with humor. "The girl he has a crush on beat him into a pulp earlier at camp." She shook her head.

"What'd he do?"

"Absolutely nothing," continued the girl "which is why he's upset."

"I mean," began Leo, humiliation coloring his tone as he swiped the ice cream off his chin with the back of his hand "I'd be able to understand if I was being a jerk or worse, but she wasn't even angry. She just wanted to make a point she's better than everybody at everything she tries!"

"Tough luck, Sparky. Maybe next time you'll pick a girl who's actually interested," said the girl with a laugh.

Leo glared angrily. "Shut up, Thalia. Just 'cause you're a major **[insert curse word of your choice here]** doesn't mean you have to keep rubbing it in my face."

Thalia turned a rather alarming shade of red.

As a loud argument broke out, the boy with the blue-green eyes grinned and turned to Nico. "Don't mind them," he said with a chuckle "They've been at each other's throat for the entire trip here."

"Yeah, Percy, why are you here? Not that I'm not completely psyched or anything, but you know, I wasn't really expecting visitors."

Percy's eyebrows rose into his hairline. "You didn't think that we'd let you spend your Christmas alone, did ya?"

"But, don't you have family? Why don't you spend the holidays with them?" Nico was incredulous.

"I had my Christmas dinner yesterday. I decided my mom deserved some alone time with Paul and Thalia wanted some time away from the Hunt. And Leo, well he doesn't really have any family to go to, does he?"

"How'd you get here?"

Percy laughed. "What is this, interrogation? If you need to know, we hitched the Wizard's Bus or whatever it's called."

Nico stared at him suspiciously. "How did you find out I was here?"

The son of Poseidon's brow furrowed. "You don't know, do you?"

Nico suspicion flared brighter. "Know what?" He sounded wary.

"The Legion's been using this place as a safe house for the past few months. Ever since we got here, actually."

"WHAT?" Nico was angry. Very angry. Actually, angry didn't cut it; he was steaming at the ears. And he was yelling, which Percy had only seen him do once before when his sister died. Nico di Angelo was normally a very calm, very cool, very suave demigod. So when he got mad, he got very mad.

What _right_, exactly, did they have to use _his_ home as their personal little hangout? They have the _gall_ to send him on a mission he didn't even _want_ to go on in the first place and use his _mother's_ old home as part of the plan and he was going to sit back and watch without complaint like some miserable, weak little _pawn_? No, no, no. Nico di Angelo, the son and heir of Hades was anything but weak. Stubborn and headstrong? Yes. Smart and witty. Sure. Violent and scathing when needed? Of course! But weak? I don't think so. They had absolutely no excuse and if they thought _he_ was going to let _them_ get away from this unscathed, than they had another thing coming.

Percy could sense that Nico was very upset, even if his expression said otherwise. "Nico, I know you're mad, but try to take it out on some other innocent demigod, 'kay?"

Nico took a shaky breath and nodded before schooling his heartbeat into a slow, calmer rhythm. _Later, _he decided. "So who uses it?" He gestured around him, indicating the – no, _his_ – house.

Percy shrugged. "Anyone who's injured in battle usually comes here for treatment so there's a permanent healer from the Apollo cabin living in the basement. Other than that, no one comes here. You know, Nico, considering that the house is in the south of Italy, it was the obvious choice for the safe house."

"Hmm." Nico didn't say anything more than that before dropping the subject. The two cousins sat in silence as they watched Thalia and Leo engage in a furious wrestling match that Thalia won by slamming Leo's head into the floor repeatedly until he yielded.

"We need to teach you unarmed combat, Leo," commented Nico as the son of Hephaestus gingerly touched the purplish bruise on his temple. "You suck without a sword."

"No, I had completely no idea," said Leo, his tone dripping with sarcasm as he held his aching head.

"So how's Jason and Piper?"

Leo shrugged as he pressed the bag of ice that Thalia handed him to his forehead. "Completely hung up on each other, but other than that they're pretty good. It gets annoying sometimes, listening and watching them kiss and hug and all that icky stuff, but they're happy. They're actually celebrating Christmas with Piper's dad right now."

"What about Grover and Annabeth?" Nico turned to Percy.

"Annabeth's with her dad and her stepfamily. Last I heard she was having a pretty good time. And Grover wanted to stay with Juniper for the holidays, plus he still has his Lord of the Wild duties and stuff." Percy shrugged. "He's stuck at Camp Half Blood basically."

"That's a shame. I like Grover's company much better than yours," said Nico cheekily, dodging the couch pillow that was thrown at his head.

"Watch it, Death Breath," warned Percy with a grin. "You better learn to shut your mouth."

"Or what?" goaded Nico with a laugh "You'll splash me?"

"Don't tempt me!"

There was a short pause in which Percy and Nico traded good-natured insults and teasing before the quarrel was interrupted by a loud grumble emanating from Nico's stomach.

"Well, looks like someone forgot breakfast," commented Thalia.

Nico snorted. "As if I'd ever forget if you three weren't distracting me. Pests." He walked away from his company in favor of the overstocked kitchen. "Looks like the children of Demeter got here before anyone else did," he muttered to himself as he opened the overflowing fridge and was met with the sight of varied delicacies.

"You gotta love 'em," sighed Percy from behind him.

"Yeah, I get the feeling that I'd love them more if they'd actually leave a cook book or better yet, an instruction manual behind for the poor demigods who don't know how to use a stove." Nico wrinkled his nose in frustration at the oven.

Percy stared at him a split second before bursting into peals of laughter. "You… don't… know… how to… cook…!" The half-blood managed to gasp out before surrendering to his laughing fit again.

Nico sighed and watched as Percy very nearly suffocated. "What's so funny? 'Cause, I honestly have no idea," he said dryly with a raised eyebrow.

"Ha!" grinned Percy once he had recovered from his giggling fit. "It's funny because the _perfect_ little son of Hades _finally_ doesn't know how to do _something_."

"And I guess _you_ know how to cook?"

Percy nodded before smiling triumphantly. "I know something you don't know! I know something you don't know!" His voice was annoyingly sing-song-y and Nico's eye twitched.

"Sometimes I wonder whether I'm the adult and you're the prepubescent teen here," the son of Hades said sarcastically.

Percy wagged a crooked index finger at him before busying himself by making breakfast with a practiced air like he had been doing this for years. Nico had once spent dinner at Ms. Sally Jackson's apartment before and had had the pleasure of eating her fabulous chicken and rice supper with a tasty but hearty salad on the side. He hadn't thought that he would taste something just as good but Percy's blueberry pancakes very nearly destroyed that expectation.

"Wow," he muttered as he bit into a fluffy forkful before looking up at Percy with something not dissimilar to suspicion. "You didn't put any poison in here, did you?"

The son of Poseidon laughed. "No, unfortunately."

"Good, I don't feel like dying just yet." He paused before saying "You're pretty good at cooking, aren't you?"

Percy grinned. "Well, Mom had to have me do _something_ over the summer before I found out about demigods otherwise I would've gone insane from boredom."

"If you make cheesecake as good as you make pancakes, I'll worship you for eternity," said Nico, utterly serious.

Thalia waltzed in with a smile. "Trust me, it's the cupcakes you want, not the cheesecake."

"I'd settle for both," said Leo as he trailed behind her, looking slightly less saddened than before.

Nico grinned. Maybe Christmas wasn't _too_ bad after all.

.

.

.

It happened when they were all in the living room, laughing and joking around. Nico had been practicing the _aguamenti_ charm on Thalia who was throwing sizzling volts of lightning from her hand at him at an attempt of warding him off. He had just directed the blast away from him with a shouted _"Protego!" _when the amber flames in the fireplace had flared up bright green.

Harry Potter tumbled out of the hearth, covered in soot, blood staining the thigh of his pants.

The demigods had stood there, shell-shocked and horrified, staring at the Boy-Who-Lived for two seconds before Thalia had leapt into action.

Producing a canteen of nectar, she had rushed to Harry's side and tore his trousers off him.

Before she had even moved to pour the liquid onto the gaping wound that was now visible to the room, Nico had grabbed her arm and hissed "What the hell do you think you're doing? He's a mortal! He could die because of that!" The son of Hades gestured wildly to the nectar.

"He's a wizard!" she had growled back. "He can take small amounts just like demigods."

She uncorked the flask and Nico made no protest this time. After sprinkling a tiny amount of the godly drink onto the oozing gash, the injury had shimmered for a moment before the skin sewed up itself, leaving a thin gray scar where a bloody wound had been moments before.

Harry was conscious but not entirely sound of mind as his eyes were glazed over with pain and he didn't seem to be processing where he was at the moment. His glasses were nowhere to be seen and Nico suspected that they had been left behind from wherever he had come, but his wand had been dangling in his hand when they searched him over.

Just as Thalia had moved the Chosen One to the couch, the fire leapt up again and two people, covered in ash and unrecognizable were thrown onto the carpet. They wore black robes and pale masks that were stained with soot. Nico automatically recognized them as Death Eaters.

"_Avada Kedavra!" _one screamed, a long wand pointing at Leo.

A foreboding "TWANG!" pierced the air. One of Thalia's silver arrows sprouted from the wizard's shoulder blade and a keening wail of utter pain left the man's mouth as a warm rush of blood soaked into his robes. The bright, brilliant flash of green had spiraled harmlessly upwards as his arm had been thrown back by the weapon.

Two minutes of utter confusion later and both people were gagged and bound on the floor, one dead, the other unconscious. The one that was still alive was the man with the arrow skewered through his shoulder. Nico had 'accidentally' driven his sword through the other's stomach and no one had actually made a move to save the person's life.

There were three loud pops and Hermione and Ron along with a mousey-haired man with dark amber eyes and two long scars crisscrossing his face were in the room.

Hermione was breathing hard and the right side of her face was bleeding bright red from a long, thin scratch over her cheekbone. Ron was doubled over, vomiting but otherwise looked unharmed. The man was injury-free as well.

Nico pointed his wand at the group. His eyes were cold and hard and… Was that fear? "What were the first words you ever said when we first met?" He was staring at Hermione, who looked like she was on the verge of crying.

But she gathered herself together before she replied and her voice was strong. "I said: Well, that aside, how did you get here?"

Nico sighed and pocketed his wand. "Darn, I was really looking forward to hexing you." His words were meant to sound funny but they felt hollow somehow.

"Where's Harry?" the brunette man spoke up.

Nico was messaging his temples and waved them vaguely off in the direction of the sofa where Harry was being tended to by Thalia.

Ron had recovered from his first time apparating and promptly Vanished the mess he had made on the floor with a weary flick of his wand. "Sorry 'bout that." He grimaced. "Never tried Apparating before. Didn't think it'd turn out to be so nasty feeling."

Nico turned to the man as Hermione and Ron watched over Harry. "What happened?"

"Death Eaters." His voice was grim. "The Burrow – Ron's home," he added at Nico's quizzical look "was attacked. Harry and Hermione had been staying over for Christmas. I had been too. We didn't think that Voldemort would be so bold as to actually attempt another try at Harry's life. We didn't think." He laughed bitterly. "Not going to that again." He looked at Nico curiously. "Now who are you?"

"Nico di Angelo." He lowered his voice. "Demigod. You must be Remus Lupin. Dumbledore told me about you and your help with the lycanthropes. We Greeks have our own definition," he supplied at Lupin's look concerning the weird name for werewolves.

Lupin nodded and Nico took in his haggard appearance. The man's face was thin and gaunt, his skin tinted gray with bad health, not just from the recent Death Eater attack. His robes were splattered with blood and underneath the stains they were ripped and threadbare, from lack of wealth. Life as a lycanthrope must be hard, the half blood surmised. He knew that Ministry laws were werewolf restricting and he sympathized with the lupine man. The dark brown hair was streaked gray with premature age and there was something in those nonhuman eyes that made Nico wary as well as empathetic. He knew what it was like to have to grow up fast. He had a bit of a stare that said 'as much hell as you've been through, I've had worse.' It was similar to the look that Percy had worn after his adventures with the Romans.

Lupin's eyes had trailed to the other demigods in the room and he was studying them suspiciously. "Who are they?" he asked Nico.

"Perseus Jackson son of Poseidon, but call him Percy. Thalia Grace – _never_ use her last name under any circumstances – daughter of Zeus."

Lupin blinked and turned his amber gaze on Nico. "You have some powerful friends." His tone was interested.

Nico shrugged. "They're my cousins." At Lupin's curiosity he said "I'm the son of Hades."

The werewolf's eyes widened and he mouthed 'Oh,' but didn't say anything.

"At the attack," began Nico after a minute of awkward silence "did anyone die?"

Lupin shook his head. "No, they all either apparated or Harry pushed them into the Floo. Ginny and her mother and father went to Headquarters **(#12 Grimmauld Place. Lupin can't say the name aloud because of the Fidelius Charm) **while the rest either raced home or went to Hogsmeade."

"Why'd you come here? I knew this was a safe-house for a _demigods _but I didn't think that wizards used it too."

Lupin smiled sadly. "It's one of the only places we actually knew was Untraceable. I told Harry that this was safer than anywhere else so I pushed him into the fire when he got cursed. When you use Floo powder without specifying where you're going, it sends the person to the last place anyone Flooed from the fireplace. I knew that. Unfortunately, two smarter-than-average Death Eaters placed a Tracking Spell on Harry and managed to locate his location before we could stop them." Lupin looked irritated with himself.

"It's not your fault," voiced Nico with a pained smile. "You didn't know about the attack."

Lupin grunted and turned away.

Nico nodded at the gagged and bound Death Eater. "So what do we do with him?"

Lupin frowned. "I called the Aurors. They probably will interrogate him under Veritaserum and condemn him to Azkaban after they heal him. Where's the other one?"

Nico shifted uncomfortably. "Dead."

The werewolf blinked and stared.

The half-blood made a face. "I didn't mean to." His voice sounded like a strange mixture of petulancy and repentance. "But I got caught up in the… atmosphere, I guess. Sorry. I'm used to fighting for my life, so I usually end up killing the one I'm against." He rolled his sneaker over the carpet in a strangely human show of discomfort. "I've been trying to correct that." He looked frustrated.

Lupin wasn't sure how to respond so he swallowed and tried to look noncommittal.

"I think Harry's awake," Nico said in order to get onto a different topic.

The lycanthrope disappeared from his side and Nico watched as the man hovered over his best friend's son like a worried uncle. As the werewolf talked to Harry in a quiet, concerned voice, Nico wondered if that was what it was like to have a real father who cared about him. Nico loved his dad, he really did, but their relationship was complicated. In his years of being groomed into being the perfect demigod son he had gained a mixture of respect and affection for his godly father, but he didn't forget how cruel and uncaring Hades could be at times. He still remembered how the Lord of the Underworld had ruthlessly compared him to his sister in the negative, how he had goaded him into near insanity in his desire to prove him wrong, how he had been hurt had his dad's lack of interest in him. How he had strived to be the best son any man could ever hope of having before he had realized in the depths of his mind that what he wanted was what he would never be; perfect.

Nico shook his head, angry. Why the hell was he even thinking about this at a time like this anyways? He took a step forward to talk to Harry. There was a loud crunch underneath his foot and he stopped, surprised. Lifting his foot, he was alarmed to see a pair of dark, broken glasses lying, shattered, on the floor. Wincing, but glad that he had discovered them rather than not, he picked up the ruined spectacles and breathed the repairing spell underneath his breath. They reassembled themselves rather nicely. He frowned at the bulky eyeglasses and grimaced; Harry didn't have a very good sense of fashion when it came to his eyes, did he? Maybe he should introduce him to the wonderful muggle invention of contact lenses.

He walked hesitantly up to the people crowded around the Boy-Who-Lived.

.

.

.

Right now, everything for Harry was a big, colorful blur of unidentifiable things. He had just regained consciousness from blood loss and he felt the cushy feeling of a sofa or a couch underneath him. His head was propped up by a pillow. He was faintly aware of a gentle throb in his thigh, but other than that he was comfortable. He settled down into his pillow and he felt a cool, damp towel wash his blood-crusted face. A soft feminine voice was talking to him in a foreign language and he found it strangely soothing, but he also felt naked without his wand in the palm of his hand. He lifted his arm and a hand grabbed his wrist, firmly but lightly.

"My wand…" Harry was frustrated with how weak his voice sounded.

"Right here," the person said in English. It was obviously a girl. She handed it to him and he gripped it tightly, as if afraid that she might take it away from him.

"And my glasses?" He blinked up at her. She was an unrecognizable blob of short black hair and pale skin. She wore dark clothes as well, like Nico.

The girl shook her head. "I didn't see any glasses anywhere. Sorry."

Right then, the voices of Hermione and Ron took over.

"Harry, we're in one of the Order's safe houses," she said as she carded her fingers through his unruly hair. She looked fuzzy too and he didn't bother trying to squint and make out her features at the moment but he was grateful when she took his hand. "We were so worried about you, Harry."

Ron's blurry red hair was nodding rapidly. "Yeah, mate. We had no idea."

The girl said welcomingly "Welcome to Nico's home. You'll be staying here until we can get some blood-replenishing potion into you. You lost a lot after that battle with the Death Gobblers – I mean, Death Eaters."

Harry could practically here Hermione going white. "T-this is _Nico's_ house?"

The girl was either oblivious to Hermione's stutter or she was a very good actress. "Of course. He used to live here with his mother before his father took him in. My name's Thalia by the way. I'm Nico's cousin."

"Another cousin?" said Harry groggily.

Thalia giggled. "Yeah, he does seem to have a lot, doesn't he? Percy and Leo are cousins, too."

"How many uncles and aunts does he have!" exclaimed Hermione with a raised eyebrow.

Harry couldn't be sure but he thought that Thalia shrugged. "He's Greek; of course he has a huge family."

Harry sighed; a sudden tiredness had swept over him and he felt the need to take a long, dreary nap. He let his head fall back into the pillow and he closed his eyes, listening as the three began to converse among themselves. There wasn't much for him to talk about until Lupin came over.

"Hey, Harry. How're you feeling?" The man's voice was soft and concerned.

Harry blinked up at the vague impression of fuzz that was Remus Lupin. "Hey, Professor. I feel fine, really, just a little tired." He sat up and stretched, a yawn stretching his mouth.

Lupin smiled (or at least Harry thought he did). "Been a rather tiring day, I know."

Harry sighed. "Don't I know it." The way he said the question, it sounded like a statement.

The werewolf chuckled.

"Do you happen to have my glasses?" asked the Chosen One helplessly.

Lupin sighed and ruffled his best friend's son's hair with a hand before saying sadly "I'm sorry, but I don't know where they are."

"I do," said a familiar voice.

Everyone turned to see Nico di Angelo holding Harry's newly repaired glasses. He handed them over and said "Next time you're in a fight, put them in your pocket." The '_you idiot' _was implied.

Placing them carefully on the bridge of his nose, Harry's vision was thankfully restored and he smiled wryly at Nico. "Thanks. Next time, I'll remember that."

"Hopefully, there won't be a next time."

**Booka: DONE! DONE! DONE!**

**Nico: This is getting rather tiring. You just tried to sneak poison into my nectar, which, I should mention, counter-reacts with the poison. **

**Booka: Darn.**

**Leo: Don't worry, Nico. She doesn't really wanna kill you. She just doesn't want to admit that she has a crush on you. *Dodges the chair that Booka throws at him* See! **

**Nico: If anyone has a crush on anyone here, it's you on her. **

**Leo: WHAT! She means nothing to me!**

**Booka: Yeah. He likes Thalia, DUH. **

**Leo: YOU! SHUT YOUR MOUTH!**

**Thalia: Someone say my name?**

**Booka: Yes.**

**Leo: NO!**

**Nico: I refuse to get involved. *Walks away***

**Booka: Anyone who thinks he's going to make out with Luna raise their hands.**

***Everyone raises their hands***

**Nico: I HEARD THAT!**

**Booka: The whole point of this little skit is for you guys to review. SO REVIEW!**


	11. Better Get Started

**Review.**

It had been a month. One agonizing month since the Burrow had been attacked. Nico had been polite and as vague as ever when he had welcomed the wizards into his not-so-private house and Harry had been grateful. He had been surprised that one of the Order's safe houses was actually Nico's home, but at the same time felt a sense of closure. Nico wasn't working for Voldemort if Dumbledore trusted him enough to use his residence as a sanctuary for the Order. After he had recovered from the blood loss, Remus had taken him aside and told him that he shouldn't ask Nico too many questions. He wouldn't say why, but he had said that Nico could be trusted and Harry had a high opinion on what Lupin had to say, so he didn't argue.

But Harry was still on edge since the battle, though, and everyone knew why. His classmates had taken to watching him in the corridors, even stopping him outside of classes to ask him questions. Harry Potter, apparently, never had been more appealing or more interesting. He found it annoying and insensitive, so he mostly tried to ignore his fellow students like Nico did. School was back on and the New Year had come into play. Everything was fine so far. He was actually thriving in Potions Class thanks to the mysterious Half-Blood Prince. He wondered at times who the Prince really was. He suspected he might've once been a Slytherin or a Ravenclaw because of the intelligence the book expressed. But it didn't really matter as long as it helped him pass Potions, for which he was in awe.

He was walking down the crowded, packed with students, hallway to lunch when he had spotted her.

She was – in no stretch of imagination – beautiful. No, nothing as plain or as chaste as that. But she was _alluring_. She was _attractive_. And she was very _dangerous_. It was somewhat obvious in the way that she held herself, proud and noncommittal in her very muggle clothes and stature. Hazy and evasive, like he was looking at her through a blurred window. That smirk was so twisted and knowing that it made his stomach twist in the exact same way. Her curling dark hair was tightly bound in a high ponytail in an attempt to tame it. It didn't work of course; it was too thick and unruly, like his. She wore a baggy black sweater with too-long sleeves. It was so loose on her that it fell off the curve of her shoulders and she was forced to keep pulling it upon her person so many times that she eventually just gave up. A pair of crooked, torn gray shorts that cut short just above her skinny kneecaps was wrapped around her waist. On any other person, the clothes would've looked unkempt and unseemly. But on her, it was good-looking and just so _right_. Nobody would've been able to make it work but her. Her lips were painted with glossy black lipstick. Her skin was a sickening yellow and there was a large bright bruise on the side of her jaw, but still she was unbearably elegant. The scleras of her eyes were tinted red like she suffered from a permanent eye infection. Her eyes were shadowed silver and her eyelids were rimmed with thick kohl. That was all the makeup she wore and Harry wondered why she didn't apply some to her skin to make her look even better. But it wasn't his place to judge, of course, he thought. The fact that she had dared to wear muggle clothes was what interested him, not just the fact that she was as alluring and as enrapturing as a demon. It caused her a large amount of attention from the students, but she ignored them.

Her pale, translucent eyes skimmed over the crowd and for one moment brilliant silver met brilliant green and she smirked at _him_. Maybe it was because he was the only one who wasn't leering (the boys) or glaring (the girls) at her, but she held her head high and strode over to him with quiet confidence.

"Excuse me?" Her voice, Harry noticed, was American but also rather lilting – like Nico's, he realized with a start.

"Yes?" He made sure his tone was polite and no too awed, but respectful.

"Could you tell me where Nico di Angelo is?"

Harry raised an eyebrow but didn't comment, instead saying "He's most likely in the dining hall. It's lunch time."

She smiled at him and it wasn't a very friendly smile but it was still a smile, nevertheless. "Thank you," she cooed and Harry was abruptly reminded of Bellatrix Lestrange and of her rather off-putting habit of talking in baby voices.

He frowned as she walked away, heels clicking against the ground; he didn't think he liked that girl very much, but he didn't know why. He followed behind her as she stalked into the Great Hall, heading towards the Gryffindor table.

Nico had been reading one of his personal novels he had brought from the Muggle World when a cold hand gripped his shoulder firmly. A familiar voice purred near his ear "Oh, Nicky. I didn't think you'd be the studious type. I'm impressed."

Nico had bristled and turned around, not sure what he was expecting, but the daughter of Thanatos was not one of those expectations. "Crypta!" His voice dripped of displeasure. "What the Hades are you doing here?"

She gave a small pout, fluttering her eyelashes in what would have been a seducing way if it hadn't looked so utterly wrong. "What's the matter, Nico? Not pleased to see me?"

Nico nearly hissed in frustration, eyes flickering back and forth across the room. Everybody was staring at them and the teachers did not look happy. Some of his House-mates were looking at him quizzically and he just knew that this encounter would cause a whole new wave of gossip that he did not want in the least.

"Crypta." His voice was determinedly calm. "What are you doing here?"

She smiled at him; this time it was a real, genuine smile. "Just thought I'd spread the good news. Congratulations." She handed him a crinkled copy of _the_ _Daily Prophet _and beamed at him.

Frowning at her sudden change in attitude, he glanced down at the newspaper and bit his lip, eyes wide. In bolded print, it read

**Demigods Win! Alliance Active This Day! **

**By Rita Skeeter **

**In a sudden, unexpected turn of events this Saturday afternoon, the final trial concerning the alliance between demigods and wizards was completed and established. To the shock of most of the Wizarding Community, the majority of the Wizengamot voted in the favor of the demigods after a wonderful case delivered and presented by Annabeth Chase, Daughter of Athena. The official treaty allying the British Sorcery Population with the Greek and Roman Half-Bloods was signed and ratified the day after the assessment which concerned several (continue on Page Five)**

**For information on Demigods, turn to Page Sixteen to read **_**A World Ruled by Gods, **_**written by Thana Gripp. **

Nico looked up and abruptly stood. Grabbing Crypta's wrist, he dragged her out of the hall towards the school library which he assumed to be empty during lunchtime. As he pulled her through the hallways, his mind was whirling. He couldn't be sure, but he had a feeling that was grinding deep in his stomach that things were about to change for the better.

Pulling her into the library, he stared at her before lowering his voice "Is it really?"

She grinned at him impishly, displaying her sharp teeth. "Of course. Why would I lie to you?"

Nico muttered, almost to himself "Plenty of reasons." He turned away and frowned, thinking. "Does this mean I'm free to go now that the allegiance is in place?"

Crypta shook her head cheerily. "If the circumstances were different, maybe. But that Katie Bell fiasco changes everything."

"What do you mean?"

Crypta looked at him sympathetically. "Hogwarts isn't secure anymore. It happened in Hogsmeade, Nico. Do you know how close that is? To here? To all these students? To the _Chosen One_? We can't risk that. You need to stay here."

Nico twisted around to stare at her.

She shrugged. "We don't need you to do anything drastic, like head counts or security checks. Just keep an eye on things here and report if anything… weird happens."

Nico gritted his teeth in frustration. "I don't remember Father telling me anything like that when I got the job!"

The daughter of Thanatos grinned. "Yeah well, plans – and job descriptions – change. Your new mission: Make sure nobody in this school gets killed."

"You're kidding me. Please tell me you're kidding me."

"Fine; I'm kidding you." That was a lie. Nico could tell.

"Arrgh!" He fisted his hand and punched the wall, which just added to his problems. Now he had a bloody, bruised knuckle and tears of pain to fight back as well.

"Sorry, but we can't take any chances. Not now when everything just got a whole lot more dangerous. You do know that the Death Eaters have gained the support of the Greek Monsters, right?" Crypta was deadly serious.

"I suspected, but I didn't think they would actually try and defy the gods." Nico looked up at her, frowning.

"That's just the thing, they didn't. At least, not openly. But they've been supplying them with venom and weapons and stuff but they haven't been outright _fighting_." Crypta scowled, irritated. "And I always thought monsters were dumb."

"If they were dumb, it'd make our lives a whole lot easier," grumbled the son of Hades.

"Anyways, I'd be careful if I were you. That incident with the poison and Katie Bell was an assassination attempt on Professor Dumbledore's life."

"I gathered enough." Nico stared at her. "What happened to your face?" His tone was concerned.

She waved away his worry and made a face. "Had a little run in with an angry _empousai_. It's nothing."

Nico sighed with longing. It had been a while since he had actually used his sword and he yearned for the adrenaline rush with came from disintegrating monsters.

"Miss it?"

The demigod nodded sullenly.

"Hey, listen, I need to get going. I'll Iris Message you later, okay?" She smiled at him as he nodded. "And if you ever need any help, I'm only a drachma away." She patted him on the shoulder affectionately before leading him out of the library.

.

.

.

They didn't notice Luna Lovegood listening in on their conversation with interest. Nor did they realize how they left the _Daily Prophet _lying innocently on the studying table where they had talked.

It wasn't until one of their private – but unplanned – meetings in the Astronomy Tower that Luna confronted Nico about it. They had placed a simple heating charm around the top of the turret to ensure that they couldn't feel the chill of the wintry night air and were sitting in companionable silence when Luna felt the need to pop the million dollar question.

"So is it true? Are you really a demigod?"

Nico had quite understandably leapt up and stared at her, very tense and very pale.

He didn't say anything, so Luna took that as a cue to start talking. "I overheard your conversation with that girl this lunch in the library. You should try putting Eavesdropping-Repellant wards up when you're having a private conversation."

Nico fixed her with a stare that would be able to kill small, furry animals if not used accordingly. He was appropriately scandalized that Luna had taken it upon herself to… listen in… on a formerly private conversation. He glared at her, disgusted with both his friend and himself before he stalked off angrily out of the tower without another word, promising himself that he wouldn't talk to her for the rest of the week. In his eyes, she had betrayed his trust, so it wasn't as if he was going to be willing to reassemble his friendship with her yet. He bolted into the nearest shadow he could find when he heard her running after him, shouting and had hid there until he was sure she was gone.

After the week was about three days old, Luna was tired of his moping – despite knowing that Nico di Angelo did _not_ mope – and cornered him in the Great Hall at dinner. She pulled him into the hallway for solitude and apologized politely. Nico accepted, grudgingly. She noticed that he was still a bit distant and colder to her than before but his new icy attitude towards her melted after a few days spending time with her.

Deciding to press her luck during one of the few free hours they had during the weekend, Luna asked him "So who's your parent?"

He looked up, glaring but answered her nevertheless. "Hades."

She studied his face intently for a moment. "Knew it."

Nico had been taken aback. He had feared that she would run out of the room screaming bloody murder when she first found out, so to think that she had known all along was rather deflating. "Really?"

"I suspected, but I didn't really _know_ until now." She gave a shrug. "Seriously, Nico, you're a little stereotypical when it comes to these things."

He looked a little affronted. "How?"

She smiled at him as if indulging a small child. "You're moody… rebellious… slightly Goth too… The little things give you away. And that piercing doesn't really help your case at all."

He stewed in silence. If there was anything he found irritating, it was being called Gothic. He had heard that one _way_ too many times for his comfort.

A couple minutes of simply glaring at Luna passed and she added, absentmindedly "And you really know how to hold a grudge. That one's a biggie."

He sighed, long and suffering.

.

.

.

Harry didn't see her again until it was late that afternoon, the same day that she had visited Nico. The sun was beginning to set and the sky was a dark amber color, streaked with red, dark and pretty. He hadn't expected to see her; after all, she came for what she needed. He didn't think she would stick around unless it was really necessary. So it came as a shock when he taking a quick walk around the grounds spotted her talking to Hagrid, Fang growling at her feet. Her face was twisted at Fang's obvious hostility which she looked likely to return but the dog relaxed when she reached into her pocket and pulled out a crumbly cookie. She tossed it to him and he eagerly snapped it up, a rough tongue swiping over his jowls. The boarhound looked up at her expectantly but she apparently didn't have any more sweets for she didn't give him any.

Harry had intended to visit Hagrid, but seeing him talking to the mysterious girl had all but scared him back to the castle. Of course, with his luck it turned out that the half-giant had sighted him before he could walk away and was now avidly trying to wave him over. The girl looked rather amused and Harry felt a vicious flush rise to his cheeks as he wandered over.

Hagrid saw his hesitation. "Don' worry Harry. She don't bite."

The girl smiled. "Not much anyways." Her voice was just as smooth and as cadenced as when he had first heard it.

Harry smiled weakly as Hagrid introduced him to her. Her name was Crypta apparently – an odd name, but he had heard worse. She was a close friend of Nico's and had been visiting him up at Hogwarts.

Hagrid invited both of them inside his hut for some tea which they both accepted. They were both wary of each other – Crypta because this was _the_ Boy-Who-Lived who was supposed to be spoiled and conceited and Harry because the weird curling sensation in his stomach was screaming at him to run away while he still had his life intact. But Hagrid had offered so nicely and so sweetly that both of them felt guilty at the thought of turning him down, so they reasoned that they could stand a couple minutes in each other's presence.

So the two entered the cabin and sat awkwardly down next to each other as Hagrid busied himself with making tea. He seemed blissfully unaware of his guests' discomfort as he took out a slightly burned pound cake and dark tea bags. He boiled the water the old fashioned way, on the stove and the hut was soon warm and comfortable. Harry found himself relaxing as he listened to Hagrid talk idly about anything and everything, small things that didn't matter. He wondered why he hadn't visited Hagrid earlier. Crypta seemed to be having the same affect; she seemed much more at ease.

So Harry wasn't terribly surprised when she turned to him and asked, as Hagrid prepared the tea "So what's it like?"

He turned to face her lazily. "What is what like?"

"Being a wizard," she replied eagerly, staring at him as if he were a rather complex puzzle. "What's it like being able to cast spells and charms and make potions and all that hocus-pocus stuff?"

He looked at her, brow furrowed. "You don't know?"

She shook her head. "No."

He frowned. "I could've sworn that you were…" He trailed off unsure whether saying _you were a whole lot more powerful than me _was very tactful.

Crypta smiled at him and shrugged, as if she knew where he was going. "Nah. I'm no witch. That's Nico's thing."

"So what are you then? 'Cause I'm sure as hell you're no Muggle." He narrowed his eyes at her, scrutinizing. "Wait. Are Nico's cousins wizards too or not, like you?"

She shifted, suddenly unsure of herself. It was weird how she switched between emotions like they were well-worn coats and Harry wondered whether Nico was so… expressive as well. "Which cousins?"

"Thalia and Percy and Leo." He stared at her. "Are they like you? Or are they wizards?"

"Um…" She paused, chewing on her bottom lip. "I can't really say…"

"Wait a second," Harry said suddenly, eyes large behind his glasses. "Is Nico even a wizard?"

Crypta's silver eyes slitted and Harry felt very, very cold inside, like he'd done something wrong. "S'not my place to say," she said her voice casual. Her gaze turned analytical and Harry felt like he was being evaluated. "I have to say; I didn't expect you to be so – sharp about things."

Harry was frustrated and her rather vague answer didn't do anything to quench his tension; he was sick and tired of having information, important information, kept from him. He was just as much as part of the war as anyone else; more so than anyone else in fact. So why did everyone make it a point to treat him like a child? Did they think he couldn't handle what he was being told? He turned away from Crypta, a small knot of impatience tightening inside his chest.

"You're pretty smart."

Harry jerked at the compliment, staring at her, trying to see whether she was making fun of him or not.

She was looking at him interestedly from her seat next to him, like she'd only just realized he was there. "I'm sure that if you tried hard enough you'd be able to figure it out on your own." Then she cracked a black lipsticked smile at him that was warmer than before leaning over and whispering into his ear "You know, not everything is in the library right? There are other resources. Muggle resources."

Harry looked at her in wonder. Did she know how to read minds? Because, last night he had been thinking something disturbingly similar to what she was implying.

"What _are_ you?" His voice wasn't rude; curious and eager, but not rude.

Her smile grew impish and she replied "Find out and come back to me later."

.

.

.

Harry intended to do just that. Of course, with his friends trying to breathe down his back almost the entire weekend, it was harder than he imagined. He appreciated Ron and Hermione, he really did and he knew they were only trying to help. But the only thing he wanted was some alone time and with it the chance to dig up some answers. Hermione had scoured the entire library for a smallest mention of this 'Hecate' that Voldemort had mentioned in his last night-vision but had come up with nothing. She had even asked Madame Pince about it and the hawk-like woman had waved her off, complaining under her breath about useless students and how in her days they would've been whipped for asking a question.

Harry knew that the library wasn't going to be much of a help this time, even if Ron and Hermione didn't realize it yet. He was planning to take matters into his own hands. He had asked Dumbledore about Hecate soon after his nightmare and the headmaster had told him that he would tell Harry when the time was right and that he shouldn't worry too much about this Hecate yet. Of course, that only made Harry more determined to find out what the heck was going on. Finally, he managed to excuse himself on Sunday lunch, saying that he needed some time alone to think. His House-Mates had looked sympathetic and they left him alone as he wandered back up to the Gryffindor Common Room. Once he was in the living area, he stripped himself of his Hogwarts robe, revealing the muggle t-shirt and jeans he had worn underneath. They were plain and nondescript, which was what he had intended, even if they were a little large; they were Dudley's hand-me-downs from almost three years ago. They were old, but sturdy and they wouldn't draw too much attention to himself where he was going.

He was nervous, of course – who wouldn't be? – as he strode over to the sooty fireplace and reached into a deep, black dish that sat on the mantle. He pulled away and dusty powder floated to the floor. The floury residue was a dark, glittering green and Harry recognized it as Floo powder. He stepped into the flaming hearth and threw down the dust, shouting "Number Twelve Grimmauld Place!" Immediately, he was immersed in warm, licking fire and before he even registered it, he was stumbling out of a cold fireplace, into the sitting room of a dusty, empty house. It was dirty and cold and not at all welcoming. He dusted himself off, ash flaking onto the already grimy floor and deciding that he was wasting time, waved his wand and siphoned the refuse off of his person.

He ran his hands through his spiky hair nervously and bit his lip as he strode from the living room down the narrow corridor of the house. The dark curtains were drawn tightly over the painting of Sirius's mother and Harry felt a strong pang of anguish at the reminder of his late godfather. He brushed it off; he wasn't here for soppy memories. He was here for a reason.

He pulled on a strong, black trench coat that hung from a peg near the door. He had a sneaking suspicion it had been Sirius's from the musky, doggy smell that lingered there like cheap cologne. The material was soft but hefty and appropriate; it was something Harry could imagine the man wearing when he needed to go out, if he went out at all. When he dragged the heavy, large thing onto his torso he was a bit alarmed to feel it shrinking and adjusting to fit his size until it felt like it was literally made for him. _Must be charmed, _he gathered as he buttoned the coat and opened the door, a chilled gust of wind invading the space. He braved the blasts of wind and eased out of the door, closing it quickly behind him and stepping out onto the busy streets of London. None of the Muggles milling around seemed to notice him, even though he gained a couple of funny looks for accidentally bumping clumsily into a few of them.

Harry was uneasy at being here, in Muggle London. He knew that being away from Hogwarts wasn't the best idea and now he was practically exposed and dangerously vulnerable when it came to fending off Death Eaters. But he wasn't about to turn back now that he upped and left the castle. So he trudged on. He was looking for a public library so he kept his eyes peeled and glanced left to right as he walked. He took out a notebook and scribbled down the names of the streets he passed, in case he got lost.

Soon it was obvious that Harry wouldn't be able to find a library without someone's help, so when he spotted a group of teenagers laughing and joking on the street curb, he approached.

There were four of them, three of them boys and one of them female. They looked to be around Harry's age and in spite of the chill, not one of them wore a coat, preferring hoodies and windbreakers which didn't seem very reliable. They were talking rather loudly and obnoxiously, like teenagers do but they quieted down when they took in the sight of Harry.

"Excuse me, but do any of you know how to get to a library?" He felt kind of stupid asking this question to a bunch of teens his _own age_ but he had to start somewhere.

The girl – who was clinging rather tightly to one of the boys – looked at him incredulously. "You want to know where to get to a _library_?" Her voice was high-pitched by the end with skepticism.

There was a moment of complete silence before all four of them burst out laughing. As the kids doubled over with hysteria, Harry balked, stung before glaring at them.

"Okay then," he said angrily. "Never mind." He moved to go and find someone else to get directions from before the girl grabbed onto his arm, still chuckling but looking slightly apologetic.

"Sorry," she smiled up at him "I just didn't expect that one."

He stared at her, brow furrowed.

"Sorry, mate," said one of the boys with a lopsided grin. "But with that Dracula coat and all, we were kind of expecting you to mug us, not ask for directions to a bloody _library_."

"Me?" said Harry, bemused. "Mug you? Right. Because that makes perfect sense."

"If you really want directions to the library, just go down the street for ten blocks until you get to Dyna Avenue and turn left. Keep going until you hit Ginas Drive. Two streets down and you're there." The girl grinned cheekily up at him. "And try not to terrorize any children on your there."

"Hyuk, hyuk," Harry muttered sarcastically as he stalked away. He certainly was not that rude even if he was the same age as them.

The library looked like a plain, dull brick building outside but was, in truth, rather comfortable when he passed over the threshold. There were several couches and armchairs and tables spread out through the room and tall narrow bookshelves rose to the ceiling. Lined up against the wall was a row of unoccupied computers, large and bulky and outdated. It was warm and welcoming and the young librarian seated at the front desk greeted him with an encouraging smile.

He entered and made a beeline for the computers and as he waited impatiently for the old thing to wake up, he wondered whether he would have any luck. After all, he couldn't even find anything in the Wizarding World let alone the Muggle world. But he just shrugged and decided to at least try. Now that the computer was up and ready, he logged in with the username and password that was written on a note taped to the chair he was sitting in. When he got online, he drew up an internet page depicting a reliable database where he typed into the search box "Hecate." When he hit search, several million answers popped up on the web page.

Raising an eye incredulously, he clicked on the first option and immediately another page took the place of the first.

Reading, he saw:

_HEKATE (or Hecate) was the goddess of magic, witchcraft, the night, moon, ghosts and necromancy. She was the only child of the Titans Perses and Asteria from whom she received her power over heaven, earth, and sea._

_Hecate assisted the goddess of Agriculture – Demeter – in her search for her daughter Persephone, guiding her through the night with flaming torches. After the mother-daughter reunion became she Persephone's minister and companion in Hades._

_Two metamorphosis myths describe the origins of her animal familiars: the black she-dog and the polecat (a house pet kept to hunt vermin). The bitch was originally the Trojan Queen Hekabe, who leapt into the sea after the fall of Troy and was transformed by the goddess into her familiar. The polecat was originally the witch Gale who was transformed into the beast to punish her for her incontinence. Other say it was Galinthias, the nurse of Alkmene, transformed by the angry Eileithyia, but received by Hecate as her animal. _

_Hecate was usually depicted in Greek vase painting as a woman holding twin torches. Sometimes she was dressed in a knee-length maiden's skirt and hunting boots, much like Artemis. In statuary Hecate was often depicted in triple form as a goddess of crossroads._

_Based off of the article at . with a few twists from yours truly. _

Harry frowned. A Greek Goddess? What did that have anything to do with Voldemort? He remembered Hermione helping him study for a History exam; the topic had been about how the Greek gods once ruled over them until one of them (he forgot which) created the first wizard, but nothing more other than that. There was a mention of a war between the gods and their children against wizards and their government. Could this Hecate be their creator? It would've made sense, seeing as she was the goddess of magic and witchcraft. Harry sighed. Better get started, he supposed.

**Booka: I suppose you're all terribly angry with me for nothing really happening for this chapter, but hey, I'm really just trying to prepare here for the literary climax.**

**Leo: What she's really trying to say is to just be happy that she updated at all, you ingrates. **

**Nico: Oh, so **_**that's**_** what she was saying! **

**Booka: I swear, one day I'll kill the both of you.**

**Nico: *draws weapon* Say that again.**

**Booka: *Slowly eases out of the room before sprinting into a dead run***

**Nico and Leo: REVIEW!**


	12. I Am Nico di Angelo

**Booka: Just Review after you read. Please. **

As impressing as the little bottle of liquid luck may have seen to the eye, the taste was rather lacking, as Harry soon found out one early February morning. It was a bit too thick and a bit too sweet to be really impressive but he supposed that was what luck must be; a little too dense and a little too sugary to be real skill. Cold and slick, it washed down his throat and splashed into his stomach, deliciously filling and cool. It tasted just the same as it had when he used it to obtain Slughorn's memories. Now he planned to use for his benefit after a rather interesting conversation with Luna. She had been wandering the halls at night after having a rather interesting dream about an exotic magical species and had bumped into Harry after he had gleaned all the information on Greek Gods he could from the library, which apparently was none. He had made a rather obscure connection from the Greeks to Nico. Seeing as he had strange powers and spoke in a weird language, it didn't seem too odd to think that the other wizard might be hiding something. Harry, knowing that Luna was rather close to Nico, had asked her whether or not the Gothic boy was actually a wizard at all.

Her reply was rather intriguing. "I see it like this; if you want to find information on someone, you either do the research yourself or hope they'll trust you enough to tell you on their own. Of course, you could always get really lucky too and pray that they'll let something important slip."

Harry, against his better judgment, had decided to take her advice. Even if she was a little quirky, Luna Lovegood was very wise in her own way and he trusted her advice more than his own at times.

It was several weeks after his trek to the Muggle Library and he hadn't found anything noteworthy in the site but he did find out more information on the Olympian Gods. It was interesting, of course, but not very useful, so he the most he had been able to do was print out a couple pages of information and then hightail it back to Hogwarts before anybody was able to remark that Harry was missing. But that, at the moment, didn't really matter.

Right now, the-Boy-Who-Lived was in a rather hazy state of bliss with rather odd urges to do different things at once. His head was submerged in cloudiness and after a few minutes of this, he snapped into attention, the haze having receded.

_Get up._

Harry stood up from his bed. It was a Saturday morning and he had been lounging in his four poster bed for a while before he decided to try the lucky potion. It was an invigorating feeling, being so lucky and carefree so he did what the voice said. He quickly dressed and showered, laughing eagerly as he did. He swung himself down the stairs, grinning like a fool, grabbing a thick blanket on the way out on pure instinct.

_Go down to the lake. Bring Hermione and Ron with you. _The distinctively male voice was cool and soothing, like he knew exactly what he was doing.

_They're in the common room. Go and get them. _

And they were. Hermione and Ron were sitting on one of the unoccupied couches, talking in quiet voices as it was still rather early and they didn't want to wake up anybody else. They looked up, startled, when he entered the room. There were a couple of other House-Mates sitting in the living area, reading or playing chess or just talking, but not many were even fully awake. A lot of the Gryffindors liked to sleep in late, especially on weekends. Harry knew for a fact that Seamus and Dean did not get up until noon or, better yet, 2 o' clock in the afternoon.

"Harry," greeted Hermione with a smile. "How are you?"

"Fine. Actually, better than fine." He grinned at her wolfishly. "I feel great. I was wondering whether you two wanted to go with me to the lake. It's been a while since we've been there, hasn't it?"

Ron immediately leapt up from the sofa. "'Course!" He looked distinctly relieved.

Hermione frowned at the redhead. "What about our homework?" She sounded worried and disapproving.

_Convince her._

"Don't worry. We don't have that much," said Harry airily. "We can do it later in the afternoon. Maybe after the walk, even."

Hermione looked slightly abated. "Well, okay then. But you have to promise not to leave it to the last second like before." She fixed Ron with a stern stare.

He smiled at her. "Sure thing Mione." Then he laughed. "You can trust me."

Hermione sighed and shook her head as she stood and followed Harry who was already half-way out of the door of the Gryffindor Common Room. He turned back and grinned. "Come on!"

The two other wizards took their time pulling on their winter robes and cloaks before finally being able to get out of the living area and out of the castle. It was a brisk, cold day, the air chilly enough to actually see your breath condense in front of you. There wasn't any snow on the ground anymore though and the yellow-green grass seemed to be struggling to grow in the harsh conditions. But the cool, crisp atmosphere was refreshing as the castle had been getting a little stuffed and overcrowded. Ron and Hermione seemed to be enjoying themselves as they walked along the edge of the water. Hermione had stopped to sit down underneath the large oak to read near the shore while the redhead had taken out a flexible little Snitch and was running to catch it. Harry was simply standing next to the water, watching the glassy, murky surface of the layer of ice that hid the magical creatures he knew the lake harbored. He smirked.

_Any minute now. _Harry glanced up, eyes flickering every which way. He frowned. He didn't see anything.

And then he did. One minute, the space was empty and the next, there it was. There was a streaking ribbon of swirling black smoke shooting towards the castle at an alarming speed. The foggy missile looked like it was intent on reaching the front door of the fortress, but for some inexplicable reason veered sharply to the left just as it was about to reach its destination. Harry realized that the thing was heading straight towards the lake. The bolt of smoke was very nearly upon them and Hermione gave a yelp of surprise when the swirling thing whizzed over her head.

It landed in the lake.

Ron and Hermione were staring at it with huge eyes when all three of them heard the sharp, foreboding crack of the ice. The smoke rocket had broken through the barrier of frozen water on top of the lake and was now submerged in deadly cold water. It had landed near the shore where they were standing on and Harry could see violent ripples extending from the place where it hit the water.

Hermione was the first to speak. "Something's wrong." She squinted out over the lagoon and every single one of them gasped when a pale, wet head with dark hair suddenly burst through the surface.

"It's a person," said Ron. "And they're drowning."

"It's Nico," Harry corrected. "And he's drowning."

.

.

.

The pure cold was incredible, Nico realized. It numbed quicker than he could move and he was surrounded by it with no escape. If you wanted to kill someone, he thought dully, dump them into an ice-water bath. That'll do it. His skin felt like heavy lead and his limbs were getting harder to move. When he had first landed in the water, the cold was so intense that it had shocked the breath out of him and he had very nearly breathed in water before he was able to reach the surface. He had been _trying_ to shadow travel into the Gryffindor Dormitory from Camp Half-Blood after visiting Percy and Annabeth, but for some utterly unlucky reason he had landed in the Black Lake instead. That had never happened before and Nico was angry at himself. It wasn't like him to slip up like that. Worse, it hadn't even felt like he had been the one who messed up. More like someone had purposefully tried to get him in the water. He had hit a thick, powerful barrier and it felt like he had run straight into a brick wall, forcing him to swerve into the lake. He had nearly drowned too before he managed to come up for air. He had gasped taking in very, very chilly air and it had been so cold that it was painful. The demigod took a moment to regain his bearings and seeing the jagged hole around him and the floating ice, he registered that he was in the lake. He forced himself to move but he was feeling so tired already. He flailed and focused on getting to shore, breaking off chunks of ice when he did. But things got complicated when he felt a cool, scaly hand grab his ankle forcefully.

Concentrating on not screaming, he glanced down and his gaze met furious dark, non-human eyes. Silver and black hair braided with strings of pearls and seaweed decorated the merman's head. Gray-blue scales were scattered all over his face and the features looked like they belonged in the water, so foreign, so flat and serpentine. The thin, barely-there mouth opened, revealing sharp yellow fangs and out came a garbled hissing that he might've found pretty and musical if under different circumstances. He couldn't understand but managed to comprehend all the same. _Get out or else. _Angry claws sank into the flesh of his leg and Nico couldn't help but want to cry out in pain as they shredded the skin.

"Damn," he said, so very quietly that he could've not said anything at all.

He almost unconsciously began to pray as he struggled against the siren. _Please, Poseidon, please. If I get out of this one alive, I promise I'll sacrifice my entire lunch and dinner for you per day. I'm sorry, I didn't mean to land in the lake, I'm sorry, I'm so sorry. I'll never go in the water again, I promise, I swear. I didn't mean to disrespect you, I'll never do it again. I'm so sorry. _

More mermen and –maids appeared from the water and each of them were hissing and screeching at him, baring their teeth and lashing out with their claws. One of their talons caught his ear and he felt warm blood trickle down his neck to mix with the icy droplets that latched onto his collarbone. The sea creatures were getting excited and they chattered at each other eagerly at the sight of his blood.

Nico swore under his breath and brandished his wand which he extracted quickly from his pocket.

They froze, staring at him with yellow and black eyes.

He pointed it at them threateningly, but his hands were shaking from the chill and he couldn't stop shivering so it looked more desperate than intimidating. "Get away from me." Damn. Even his voice quaked.

The mermen and merwomen hissed something similar to laughter and they grinned wickedly. Nico's heart sank. _How could such inhuman things have such similar expressions to us?_ he wondered. _And how do they get them to look so cruel? _

Then he heard a very familiar voice yell just as the merpeople began to advance on him with evil looking intentions. _"Accio Nico!" _

There was a sudden jerk around his waist and he felt like he was being dragged through the water, through the air until he landed harshly on his back on hard – but dry – ground.

.

.

.

Nico looked like he had been to hell and back, Harry thought. That was the only way to describe it. Icy water streamed down his body and his dark clothes were soaked, sticking to his body wetly. His skin was turning a chalky gray – seeing as he couldn't turn much whiter – and the tips of his fingers and his lips were bright blue. The top of his ear was slashed open; nothing too deep, but blood was oozing slowly out of the cut and it didn't look good. He was shivering violently as he struggled to breathe evenly; he was lying on his back and his eyes looked feverish as they stared wildly around him. His longish hair was plastered around his face and Harry could see streaks of white frost freezing among the locks.

_Save him, _the potion urged.

"Oh, Merlin," whispered Hermione as she turned towards them, face pale. "Ron! Harry! We have to get him to the Infirmary!" She pointed her wand at Nico and with a flick, his clothes were dry but he was still trembling and his skin was soaked.

"Gods," he muttered incoherently. "I'm so sorry, I'm sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry…" he trailed off and his iced lashes were pressed tightly against his cheeks as he closed his eyes and shuddered.

Ron grabbed the boy's shoulders and lifted him from the ground with Harry helping but it was hard as the wizard was wet and slippery.

"Oh for heaven's sake," Hermione growled before waving her wand again. Nico steadily floated into the air, breath coming in short pants. Hermione raced over, face twisted with concentration as she grabbed Nico's hand and began to lead his levitating body from the lake. "Come on!" she called from behind and they began to run as fast as they could.

The race to the hospital wing seemed to take longer than ever before under the serious implications and adrenaline washed through Harry as he bolted with the three others down the hallways. They dodged around staring students and soon they came to the doors of the infirmary. Hermione dragged the floating Nico into the room and Madame Pomfrey's eyes widened at them as they pulled the trembling demigod onto one of the beds.

"Get out!" she exclaimed. "I have work to do." She was already hovering over the boy's prone form and didn't notice when the Golden Trio slipped obediently out of the hospital, despite their worry.

.

.

.

Ten minutes later, the matron exited the infirmary looking withdrawn and tired. She sighed and nodded her consent as they looked at her anxiously. "He's still very weak!" was her warning as the three entered the room.

Nico was propped up among several soft pillows and wrapped in several bright fluffy blankets with his hands gripping a steaming mug of hot cider. He wore the blue striped pajamas of the hospital wing. His hair looked newly dried as it curled more than Harry would have expected and his skin had returned to his normal pallor, no more of that horrible gray or blue. But his nose was a vivid red and his eyes looked way too bright and watery to be healthy. Harry had the suspicion that he had caught a cold. For some reason, this amused him greatly. Nico di Angelo, the great, alluring, mysterious wizard struck down by a cold.

Nico looked absolutely miserable. He wiped his leaky nose on his sleeve and said in a thick voice "Danks fer helping may. You didn' haff to." He sniffed and reached for a tissue.

Ron grinned at him. "No problem. We couldn't very well let you drown, now could we?"

Hermione smacked him on the arm for his insensitivity and said to the demigod "It was nothing at all. We were glad to help." She seemed to have warmed up to Nico considerably after his near death experience.

Nico sighed and he waved a hand carelessly at them.

Hermione looked at him curiously. "Why are you sick? Shouldn't Madame Pomfrey have given you a potion for that by now?"

"She did," he muttered, jerking his head at the cup that sat next to him on the side table. He made a face. "Bud it tastes bad. Weally bad."

She smiled and sighed. "C'mon." She sat next to him and took the glass from the table. She then turned to him and said in a coaxing voice that was not dissimilar to a baby's coo "Drink up, Nico."

He glared at her. "'M sick, not a baby."

She rolled her eyes and abandoned the cutie voice. "Just pinch your nose and you won't taste a thing. Alright?"

He nodded grudgingly and did as she said as he swallowed the foul tasting potion. The bright red of his nose receded and turned to his regular pale skin tone and his watery eyes disappeared. He shuffled and sighed in relief as his airway was cleared of mucus. "Much better," he said to the three.

Harry smiled and watched as his friends and Nico talked. They mostly spoke about school and magic and how Snape was a git ("He's a teacher!" Hermione had exclaimed) before Madame Pomfrey swooped in and ordered them all out. Visiting hours were over, apparently. Unnoticed to everyone, just as Madame Pomfrey entered the infirmary again, Harry had slipped underneath his invisibility cloak and went unseen until the room was evacuated except for the two dark haired wizards.

Nico was still sitting among his pillows, looking rather gloomy – like always, Harry decided as an afterthought. But he occasionally winced and looked as if he was in pain. When the boy gingerly touched his fingers to his temples, Harry realized that he had a headache.

"You okay?"

Nico jumped rather badly and turned to stare at the Gryffindor who had just appeared out of midair. "How did you…?" he trailed away as his eyes landed on the silvery cloak in the wizard's hand. He swore underneath his breath and glared angrily at Harry. "Do you _like_ scaring people out of their freaking skin or something? Because, seriously, I really hate it when you do that."

_Apologize. _Felix sounded gleeful for some reason.

"Sorry." Harry glanced around the hospital room away from the demigod.

Nico muttered underneath his breath "Whatever. What are you doing here anyways?"

Harry smiled and reached underneath his robes to extract a black dagger hidden underneath his cloak.

Nico's eyes bulged as he took the weapon from Harry's grip. "Where the hell did you find this?"

Harry grinned. "Washed up on shore after you. Didn't find it until after you were in the infirmary. I thought I'd return it."

Nico sighed as he stowed it away underneath his pajamas.

The-Boy-Who-Lived raised an eyebrow.

The demigod shrugged. "I have a holster, don't worry," he revealed at Harry's look. Then he grimaced and went back to messaging his forehead.

_Point out the medicine. _

"Headache?" Harry asked casually.

Nico nodded and made a face. "It really hurts. Never had a headache this bad before."

Harry tilted his head innocently to the side before scanning the room. His eyes landed on a glassy vial with a thick blue potion sitting on the counter near the windowsill. "That's a Headache-Curing Potion, isn't it?" He pointed at the flask.

Nico's eyes followed Harry's index finger and they narrowed in indecision at the bottle that sat innocently on the table. "You sure?"

Harry nodded. "Very." The wizard strode over to the bottle and he picked it up, bringing it to eyelevel. He examined the potion thoroughly, running his fingers over the smooth glass before turning to Nico. "This is it."

_Give it to him. _

Nico stared at Harry suspiciously as he took potion before uncorking the container and sniffing. A sharp scent pierced his nostrils and he wrinkled his nose with distaste. "Smells like pencil shavings," he muttered before tilting the bottle back and chugging the potion down quickly.

"Nico!" Harry yelled as he snatched the already-empty flask from the demigod's hand. The Felix Felicis seemed to be wearing off.

"What?" Nico's brow furrowed. The hard throbbing in his skull had disappeared but he felt odd. He could feel the liquid sloshing inside his stomach and it wasn't comfortable. He felt sluggish and his movements were slower than they usually were.

"Are you crazy! You're not supposed to drink the entire bloody thing!" Harry shouted at him. "And you're supposed to _sip_, not _gulp_!"

"Wha…? Ooh!" The world suddenly tilted on its axis and Nico was disoriented and dizzy. _Was that the ceiling or the floor above him?_

"The side-effects," he heard a voice say, far away and echoing "are rather severe. Faintness and nausea a couple hours later are common. Also, you will feel kind of out of it for a little while. Incoherence is also another symptom. So basically, you'll be drunk for a good couple of hours. Way to go, Nico." The voice sounded frustrated. And it had a cool accent too. British or Australian or something like that.

And then, he heard Hermione's scream.

.

.

.

"Harry, what have you _done_!" Hermione shrilled loudly as she walked in on Nico slumped across his bed, eyes glazed and a stupid grin plastered across his face and Harry standing over him, looking for all the world like his puppy had gone and peed the bed. She had returned to the Infirmary looking for Harry, but she hadn't expected _this_.

"I didn't do anything!" Harry said, waving his hands wildly around his head.

Needless to say, they were incredibly lucky Madame Pomfrey was otherwise occupied at the moment with some sick Slytherins.

Ron trotted in after her. "Didn't do what?" Then he caught sight of Nico. "Oh. You drugged him, didn't you?" His voice was oddly flat.

"Oh, for the love of… I didn't!" Harry crossed his arms over his chest and glowered. "He drank the Headache-Healing Potion whole."

"Whole?" Hermione's eyes were wide.

"Whole," Harry confirmed solemnly.

"What hole?" said Ron, looking completely bewildered.

Both of them stared at him.

Indignant, he exclaimed, "Can somebody please tell me what the hell just happened?"

Hermione sighed and explained "The Headache-Curing Potion is far from perfect, Ron. It has a lot of nasty side-effects if you don't drink it correctly. Nothing too harmful, of course," she said at Ron's horrified expression "otherwise the Ministry would've outlawed it, but still." She looked uncertainly at the now-humming Nico. "He'll be a bit… loony for a while."

"Okay, I get that. But what does this have to do with holes?"

.

.

.

Nico was mumbling. Sometimes it would be in English and other times… not. Like some sort of foreign language; and for some reason, no matter how many times Hermione tried to cast a Translation-Charm, it just wouldn't work. They couldn't understand a thing he was saying.

Suddenly he turned to Hermione, eyes out of focus. "Hey, Anna-_hic!_-beth!"

The side-effects did not list hiccups as one of the symptoms.

Hermione glanced at him, frowning. "I'm not Annabeth." He'd been calling her that for the last few minutes and it was getting kind of annoying.

Nico warbled and she deciphered it as a laugh. "Ya sure do act like – _hic!_ – her though." He frowned and rubbed his chest. He squinted at Hermione. "Nah. Don't have the hair or the eyes. _Hic!_"

Harry laughed quietly but snapped his jaw shut at his bushy-haired friend's glare.

Nico twisted on the bed at Harry's chuckle and stared at him. "Pe-ercy?" he stuttered. "Percy?"

The Boy-Who-Lived shook his head and he remembered the name vaguely. He'd met the boy before at Christmas in Nico's safe house. "Nope. Harry, remember?"

"Harry. Harry – _hic!_ – Potter?"

"Yeah." The wizard shifted, uncomfortable.

"You're not Percy," Nico deduced.

"No. I'm not."

"But you're like him." The demigod cracked a wicked (if not glassy) grin before giggling slightly. "Like him, not him, but like him. You've got a different sense of humor too. But it all comes down to prophecies and destiny and all that crap, right?"

Hermione's eyebrows rose and she said "You know about the prophecy too?"

"Ye-ep!" Nico blinked rapidly at her. "My cousin's been chasing – _hic!_ – his prophecy for a good part of his life."

Harry looked interested. "What happened to him?"

Nico shrugged. "Saved the world. Kissed the girl. Yadda, yadda, yadda, and they lived happily ever after. The end. Story over." His mouth extended in a fake yawn and stretched his arms. "Boooring!"

"Really?" Harry frowned. Would he have a happy ending too? "Who'd he get his prophecy from?"

"The Oracle of Delphi," Nico answered, his voice slightly slurred.

Hermione leapt up. "I've read about her. She's –"

"Hermione!" Harry interrupted. "Save it for later." His eyes were fixed on Nico and he looked intense. "What was his prophecy? Was it like mine?"

Nico hiccupped before answering. "Nope! His rhymed and it ha-_hic!_-ad all these loopholes and circles and pu-uzzles in it. Like, it talked about 'im, but it didn't." He smiled faintly and said proudly "I memorized it, see, 'cause it was, like, the Great Prophecy of the Century and it was really important. It went:

_A half-blood of the eldest gods,  
>Shall reach sixteen against all odds<br>And see the world in endless sleep  
>The hero's soul, cursed blade shall reap<br>A single choice shall end his days  
>Olympus to preserve or raze."<em>

They were all quiet for a moment, the silence only broken by the demigod's soft hiccups.

"Yeah. It was pretty mo-orbid and stuff," Nico said, suddenly sad.

"So, Percy was the hero whose soul was reaped?" Hermione asked, confused. "But that doesn't make any sense! We saw Percy just this Christmas."

Nico sighed. "Nah. The Fates weren't talkin' about Percy. Luke was the hero and Percy was the half-blood. Luke died, in the end, but he saved us all too. I'm pretty sure he got Elysium."

Harry blinked; he recognized that word, Elysium. It was the ancient Greek embodiment of Heaven.

"Who was Luke?" Ron questioned.

"He was a son of Hermes."

Harry frowned. "The Greek god?"

Hermione was the one who pieced together the entire thing first. "This Luke was a demigod, wasn't he?" she whispered.

Nico lay back against his pillows, looking slightly dazed and very, very sad. "Yeah. He was a traitor, in the beginning. But he had a pretty good reason to be. His dad and practically all the other gods ignored their kids and he was angry because he felt like they thought he was insignificant. So he wanted to show them up. I'd probably feel the same way. Hell, I _felt_ the same way. Sometimes I still do. But you can never _hate_ your parents, ya know? Anyways, in the end, he turned out alright. He did the right thing and that was pretty much all that mattered. He set it right, anyhow." He had stopped hiccupping now and his voice was smooth and distant.

Harry puffed his cheeks and blew out his breath, fluttering his bangs slightly. "Nico, who are you?"

Nico closed his eyes tiredly and he shifted, wrapping his arms around himself. "I don't know. Percy's cousin, I guess. My dad's son. Bianca's pathetic little brother too. I don't know." His black eyes opened and he stared at Harry. "She left you know. She died and for a while, I was content with just leaving her alone. But then she left me. She didn't say anything either. It was a completely random day and she upped and left me." His hand crawled up to his neck where he pinched the skin, leaving deep red marks for some reason. "I felt so angry with her, I couldn't think. So I acted selfishly and I brought Hazel back."

Harry watched this anguished boy talk and he felt something tighten in his chest; something foreign and burning. He didn't know who Hazel was and he had a feeling he really didn't know the gravity of this little speech either, but at the moment he couldn't have cared less. His mouth opened and before he could stop himself, he said "I understand."

Nico held his gaze. "Yeah. I thought you would. You understand about death a lot more than anyone else in this damn school. Besides Luna of course. Luna knows a lot."

Harry nodded in agreement. "Yeah, she does."

"I thought you'd understand. I know you understand," continued the drugged boy as he scratched furiously at his collarbone. "Death has that affect on people. You know more than you want to."

Hermione grabbed at his clawing hand. "Stop that," she ordered quietly. "You'll hurt yourself."

"I feel so hot and itchy," he murmured. "I want out. Out of my skin. Out."

"What are you?" she asked, holding onto his arm tightly.

He looked at her heart-wrenchingly. "You already know the answer to that, Hermione."

"Oh, Nico," she whispered. "Why didn't you tell us?"

"I didn't trust you," he answered, blatantly honest.

"And now you do?" Harry queried.

"You at least." Nico looked straight into him. "You know how it feels. They don't. I'm sorry about your godfather, by the way."

Nico could've socked Harry in the stomach and he wouldn't have felt anything, he was so shocked.

"You know about Sirius." It wasn't a question, but the demigod found the need to answer.

"Yeah. I met him. He was a good man. Cocky and a little too impulsive but a good man," Nico sounded so tired. "He deserved Elysium."

"That's impossible," breathed Harry. "He's dead. He has to be."

"It's not impossible," the son of a god replied. "Not if you're me."

"What are you?" repeated Hermione. "Who are you?"

And he met her eyes with a burning defiance as he announced. "Nico di Angelo. Son of Hades."

**Booka: *cowering behind Nico* I know, I know. I'm a terrible person, a true monster. Please don't kill me.**

**Leo: *glares* Why shouldn't they? You've kept them waiting for – what? Four weeks? **

**Nico: A month, actually. **

**Leo: Does it really matter? **

**Nico: …**

**Booka: I know and I'm sorry. But seriously, I really didn't have writer's block, but I was afraid to write this chapter. Yeah, yeah, I'm a wimp, I know. But this is a really crucial part of the story and I didn't want to mess it up. I'm not a big fan of this chapter anyways. *makes a face* But please, tell me your thoughts on it. On a better note, I am truly touched by all the support and lovely reviews people are sending me on this fanfic. I am very honored and… and… You guys just make me cry! **

**Leo: *hands Booka a tissue* **

**Booka: *blows nose loudly* **

**Nico: Gross. **

**Everybody: REVIEW! **

**Nico: Wait, don't! I don't wanna see her cry anymore!**

**Booka: Don't listen to him. **

**REVIEW.**


	13. To Die Or Not To Die

_**Please**_** review. **

**Note:**

**Booka: *looks up at the review count* Whoa. Over 200 reviews to date. Really impressive guys. Thanks for all of your support!**

Nico di Angelo was nervous.

This, of course, was a very big deal. The son of Hades didn't just "get nervous" at the smallest provocation. There was always a very good – or, in most cases, a very bad – reason for why he felt emotions. Any emotions, really. Most of the time, he was rather apathetic. He was almost never nervous. And this particular feeling was always very… picky. His eye twitched. His leg shook. His tongue felt dry, like sandpaper. His thin fingers were forever wriggling on his desk. No, he did not like feeling nervous. And the reason he was feeling so bad was all the more dreadful.

He hadn't planned on confessing about it, of course. No, it was more of the spur of the moment decision that he later regretted very much. He had known, though, that he would've had to tell Harry eventually. This entire war was revolving around him and Voldemort so he knew he had to admit to being a demigod soon. But he had been planning on telling _only_ Harry, not blurting out his secret to the other two-thirds of the Golden Trio. Technically, he hadn't actually told them of his own accord; he was influenced by that Headache-Nausea potion and he had been very out of it for a while. Seriously though; he had spilled some sappy, pitiful little speech about Percy and Bianca and most likely Luke and he was humiliated. The three wizards had been surprised to hear about his heritage – obviously – and hadn't asked him any questions, thank God. They had been more shocked than anything and had reeled back when he had told them. But they had most likely gotten over their initial alarm by now and were probably dying out of curiosity. Nico now made it his priority to avoid them at all costs.

Nico was in the library, leg shaking, eyes twitching and hands moving. He was attempting to write an essay for Defense Against the Dark Arts. That was another problem; Snape was a total prick and it wasn't as if Nico wanted to do any work that bat assigned. So, he was in a bad mood. He scowled and rebelliously scribbled down another paragraph, glaring at the ink bottle next to him. As if in retaliation, it wobbled precariously on the edge of the table and Nico scrambled to catch it before it hit the pile of textbooks next to him. He swore rather loudly and froze when the librarian fixed him with her harsh gaze.

Madame Pince watched him hawkishly for a moment with narrowed eyes before slinking away into another aisle, muttering about idiot students mucking up her books.

Nico sighed explosively in relief before glowering at the ink bottle. He went back to his work, but he stiffened as he caught sight of a familiar bushy head of brown hair out of the corner of his eye. _I swear, if she so much as looks at me funny, I'm out of here, _he promised himself.

Hermione glanced at him before doing a double take. She took a deep breath and turned away, seemingly looking interested in all of the books in front of her, but Nico saw the tense line of her shoulders hunched near her ears.

He shifted unconsciously, twisting away from the girl, looking anywhere but at her. The tension was so icy and thick that you could cut it with a knife. Nearby students were staring at them in confusion, wondering why the heck the atmosphere had gotten so uncomfortable and dangerous. A couple of the more cowardly ones, fearful of an argument or worse, stood and left for safer places with their friends. Nico watched them, wishing he had the sense to go too, but he wasn't one to run away from things. No, he preferred clashing head-on and hard, damn the consequences. So, like the stubborn son of Hades that he was, he sat there and struggled to concentrate on his homework.

It was a couple minutes until she managed to speak to him.

"Hey Nico," Hermione greeted embarrassedly as she shifted her weight from foot to foot.

Not quite looking into her eyes, Nico raised his head from his parchment and jerked a nod at her.

Styx, it was awkward.

"Listen, Nico, I –" but she cut herself off with a shuddering breath. She closed her eyes before continuing. "I know I haven't been the nicest to you…"

Nico snorted.

"… and I wanted to apologize for that," the girl said, ignoring his derisive sound. "I didn't like you because of – well, I can't really explain it. The way you held yourself, I suppose, just reminded me of Malfoy in all his pureblooded glory and it didn't really help when you'd make rude, spiteful comments and all that. You just rubbed me the wrong way at times. But I shouldn't have been so quick to judge and I'm sorry."

Nico evaluated her through lidded eyes. She seemed sincere enough. And he really needed to stop holding so many grudges. The olive branch path seemed like a good option. "Apology accepted. I kinda didn't like you that much either, so I'm sorry too. Truce?"

She looked relieved and smiled brightly. "Truce."

Nico turned back to his work and Hermione left him to his thoughts.

.

.

.

Luna sat next to him, slumping ungracefully onto the dining bench. It was lunchtime and Nico had been picking half-heartedly at his sandwich in the Great Hall when the loopy Ravenclaw had decided to sit next to him.

"Luna," murmured the demigod, sipping his pumpkin juice.

"Nico," greeted Luna with a dreamy smirk. She had pinned her dark blond hair up into a careless ponytail and her robes had been sloppily tossed on. She looked for all the world like a regular teenager with weird clothing on. But her eyes told a different story.

A short pause.

"You wanted to tell me something?" Nico started.

"The thestrals miss you," she answered with a quirked eyebrow.

"I visited them yesterday," he grinned at her.

"That's not a very valid excuse," she hummed. "They like you very much."

"Tell them I like them as well," he chuckled.

"Why don't you tell them that yourself?"

"I've been busy lately," he said vaguely.

"You told them about you being a demigod, didn't you?" Luna queried, interested.

"Who? The thestrals?"

Luna shook her head. "No. Harry and the others, of course. The thestrals already know."

Nico let out a short burst of sardonic laughter. "Yeah, I did. Not of my free will, of course. I had to get drugged in order to say anything about the Olympians, though. I think I said something about Percy and Bianca, too."

The girl inclined her body back, watching him. She then reached over the table and helped herself to some chicken, nibbling on her fork thoughtfully. "It could've been worse."

Nico raised an eyebrow. "How, exactly, could it have been worse?"

"You could've told them about the Fields of Punishment."

Suddenly, his sandwich didn't look so appetizing. "Yikes. Yeah, it _could've_ been worse." Nico sighed and let his chin drop into his hand. He noticed vaguely that most of the Gryffindors were looking at Luna with disapproval in their eyes. He sneered angrily at one who looked like he was about to say something derogatory to the Ravenclaw. The boy averted his eyes quick enough and Nico grunted with satisfaction.

"Sometimes, you can be really scary. You know that, don't you?" said Luna, her voice soft and lilting as she noticed him glaring at the boy.

He breathed out heavily through his nose. "I have to be, Luna," he replied indifferently as he closed his eyes and tried to relax.

"Sure you do, Nico." Her tone would have probably been sarcastic if she had been born a normal person. "Sure you do."

"It's not a game, Luna," he scolded. "Being intimidating is a whole lot more useful than you'd think it'd be."

"Deters the monsters, I suppose," she teased quietly.

"Yes," he agreed before swigging his drink.

"You're looking a little pale, Nico," observed Luna casually. "Have you been getting enough sleep?"

Nico grinned wryly at her. "Don't I always? Seriously, I'm fine."

"Liar," she deadpanned.

"Worried about the trio and what they know," he continued, as if she hadn't spoken. "But fine."

Nico chewed on his sandwich and watched as Harry glanced at him from the other side of the table. The Boy-Who-Lived didn't look particularly hostile, just curious and a little cautious. Nico turned away; he wasn't ready to explain himself to the wizard just yet.

"They're going to start asking questions soon," Luna said, noticing where his eyes had gone. "You can't stop them from asking."

"Oh yeah," he murmured. "Watch me."

"Harry's probably told Dumbledore already," the girl continued.

"Luna," interrupted Nico. "I know you're worried and all, but let me handle it. It's not that big of a deal. Dumbledore already knows. You know that."

Luna bobbed her head slightly and tilted her head at him. "Okay, Nico. You keep telling me you're fine and I'll keep agreeing with you. But one day, you'll look back on this and wish you told me the truth." She stood up and began to walk away before turning back. "I'm always here if you need me."

Nico watched as she walked back to the Ravenclaw table. He felt a twinge of guilt for lying to the girl, but pushed it away stubbornly. He had other problems at the moment. He'd deal with his personal feelings later when he could afford to.

He got up from the dining table and strode out of the Great Hall gracefully, making sure that all the ghosts of Hogwarts were on the other side of the castle with his senses before moving to the Gryffindor Common Room. It was getting much warmer in early March than it was before in late February when he had fallen into the frozen lake. The air still had a little bite to it, but it was less severe than before and Nico was grateful for that. The warmish breeze ruffled his hair and he flattened it impatiently as he climbed the stairs three at a time, his feet barely brushing the steps before he leapt to the next one.

Nico skidded to a halt in front of the large portrait of the Fat Lady wearing a silk, pink dress. He said the password: "_Veni Vidi Vici_."*

The painting swung to the side, revealing the holed entrance to the Common Room hidden behind it and Nico crawled in the carpeted, hidden gap. Emerging from the tunnel, he stood and dusted himself off. He strolled leisurely across the living area to one of his favorite seats near the window. Perching on the cushioned arm offhandedly, he glanced out the pane and felt his eyebrows rise in curiosity.

Outside, the bowl-shaped purplish shield surrounding the castle that was the Hogwarts wards rippled and tightened. Small waves of energy surged through the semi-transparent barrier. Sickening yellow flashes of light erupted towards the edge of the ward and slammed into the magic protecting the school, but they just bounced off with no affect whatsoever. Angry screeches pierced the air and Nico winced, covering his ears.

"Dear God," he muttered. "What in Hades is that?"

"Death Eaters," answered a voice from behind him. Nico turned around to see Harry standing there leaning against the wall. The Chosen One sighed. "They've been trying to piece the wards apart to get inside. I say it's useless. Those protections are too old for them to really get anywhere."

Nico turned to frown at the yellow spells. "Useless or not, they're still here. That's a bad thing."

Harry laughed hollowly. "Tell me about it. I think they might've been interested in breaking into Hogsmeade too, but there are too many Aurors for them to take down." He ran a hand through his hair in frustration and Nico noted dully that it stuck up in black spikes when he did that.

The son of Hades turned back to the window. "I better alert Percy and the others about this," he muttered.

Harry looked at him curiously before turning away when Nico glanced at him. He knew the other boy had been avoiding him for the past few weeks and he didn't want to intrude on anything he shouldn't.

Nico frowned. It felt too awkward at the moment and he felt irritated with himself. He didn't want to avoid Harry for the rest of his stay at Hogwarts. It made him feel like a coward and he was anything but. "I know you're thinking it. Go on. Ask away," the demigod said after a short pause.

The wizard's eyes widened. "You sure?"

Nico rolled his eyes. "Why not? I might as well get it over with now instead of dragging it out." He rolled off the arm of the chair and plopped onto the seat of the lounger, kicking up his feet onto the coffee table.

"Okay." Harry fell onto another couch opposite to Nico and steepled his fingers thoughtfully underneath his chin. "First question: Percy's a demigod. Who's his father?"

"Poseidon," Nico answered, letting his head lean back against the pillow supporting his spine.

The Boy-Who-Lived blinked. "Leo?"

"Hephaestus."

"Thalia?"

"Zeus."

Harry whistled lowly. "Impressive."

Nico smirked in amusement. "And being the son of Hades isn't?"

Harry grinned. "Of course it is. Much more scary though."

"If I had a drachma for every time I heard that one," Nico murmured. "Next."

"Why are you here?"

Nico shrugged. "A lot of the delegates in your government are pretty old fashioned. They didn't really trust me at first and decided that in order to put me to the test I'd have to be watched for a little while here. I passed the course. They signed the allegiance. Everything's pretty much worked out and we're helping you now. With fighting the Death Eaters I mean."

Harry looked at him thoughtfully. "You said you met Sirius. Do you know anyone else I might've known before they…?" he trailed off and gestured meaningfully with his hands.

"I know every single person who enters Elysium," said Nico conversationally. "I do the paperwork." His lips twitched wryly before stilling. "I… I don't usually meet them, the people who died. It's only writing up their files on a computer, after all. But I did meet Sirius and your parents when I was in heaven a couple weeks ago when I traveled to the Underworld to meet with my dad." It had been a short, extremely brief meeting for Nico and Hades. Not to mention, it had been very straining for the both of them, with their family problems in communicating and such. When Nico had recognized the Potters and Black sitting out on the porch of one of the many houses in Elysium, he had stopped and talked to them.

"It was after I started Hogwarts, of course. And it was an odd experience. It was like they knew I would meet you eventually. Lily was a very nice woman." He glanced at Harry to see the wizard clenching his fists. "I can stop if you want me to."

Harry shook his head and said calmly "I want to hear it."

"Hmm." Nico squinted at him and frowned but continued. "Lily was very polite, but Sirius and James were very… amusing." An eyebrow twitched slightly and Harry translated _amusing_ to _aggravating beyond belief. _"A little too enthusiastic. Sirius missed you a lot too. And he told me to tell you to stop blaming yourself for his death." Harry smiled to himself, sad but pleased. "Thanks for telling me."

Nico shrugged. "It's the least I can do."

The silence that followed wasn't awkward in the slightest. Actually, it felt kind of comfortable for Harry. The weight that had been pressed on top of Harry's chest was now lifted away and the guilt that had been eating at his mind was now dispersed. He sighed and leaned back into the back of the couch.

Nico stood and walked towards the windowpane. The flashes of yellow light were coming in hard and fast now.

"Why aren't the Aurors dealing with them?" he asked Harry.

"They're at Hogsmeade, protecting the wizards there," he answered, frowning. "They can't really spare any more as it is."

"I really need to tell Percy," Nico said. He backed away from the window before turning on his heel and marching across the room.

"I don't think a letter will do much," Harry warned. "They take a while to be delivered and by then the Death Eaters will be long gone."

"Well, it's a good thing I'm not sending an owl then, isn't it?" Nico snarked as he pulled out his wand from his robe sleeve. He cleared his throat before brandishing the wooden stick carefully before muttering something indecipherable under his breath.

What happened next was what Harry least expected.

A rainbow – a goddamned _rainbow!_ – delicately spewed out of the tip of Nico's wand and arched into the air in front of him. It shimmered prettily in the air, the mixed colors looking rather – for lack of a better word – _magical_.

Harry blinked. "Uh…"

Nico ignored him and he pulled out a golden coin that glinted slightly in the light. He rubbed his fingers over the surface of the coin almost reverently before flipping the drachma into the rainbow. To Harry's surprise, the mist absorbed the coin before it managed to hit the ground.

Nico raised his arms and said loudly_ "O, Iris, Goddess of the Rainbow, accept my humble offering. Show me Perseus Jackson, son of Poseidon."_

Harry watched with wide eyes as the colors glittered and shimmered in front of them before melding together and swirling in the air. Then they pooled into individual parts of an image; an animated image, like the television the Dursleys had at Number Four Privet Drive.

The scene was of Percy. But this wasn't the laughing, happy-go-lucky Percy Harry had met over the holidays. This was a vicious, skilled swordsman slashing a glinting, bronze blade at snarling monsters. He was at a battlefield in Europe apparently. They couldn't see much of the background, but he was standing on dry, yellow grass that looked dehydrated and ugly. Nico watched indifferently as Percy beheaded a growling hellhound. The gold dust exploded over him and Harry winced as the dog disintegrated, howling in agony.

Percy's aqua-green eyes blinked away golden monster powder before turning to the Iris Message. "Nico!" Percy exclaimed in a surprised voice. "What the hell! You can't just IM me in –" but he was cut off when an empousa leapt at him. He parried the thrust the monster made at him easily before stabbing the thing in the stomach. As the creature wailed and shriveled into dust, he turned back to them. The son of Poseidon looked rather aggravated.  
>"What in Hades do you think you're doing!" he yelled.<p>

Nico smirked. "Calling you."

Percy grumbled something that probably should've been censored before pouncing on yet another monster.

"Where are you?" shouted Nico over the clanging of metal against metal.

"South of England!" replied the other demigod as he smashed the hilt of his sword onto the skull of an enemy harpy. There was a foreboding cracking noise and Harry wrinkled his nose at the sight of black blood trickling from the side of the hag's head.

"I need you to do me a favor," continued Nico.

"As if I'm actually going to do you a freaking favor in the middle of a freaking fight; cute," Percy said sarcastically.

Nico opened his mouth to respond when there was the loud crackling sound of an explosion and the image shuddered for a moment. Static replaced Percy and then he was back, but the boy was lying on his belly, hand covering his head as a shower of dirt rained down on him.

The son of the sea turned to scream at someone they couldn't see. "GODDAMMIT, HECTOR! I TOLD YOU BEFORE AND I'LL TELL YOU AGAIN! THROW THE FREAKING GRENADE AT THE MONSTERS! THE MONSTERS, YOU IDIOT! NOT ME!"

Harry jumped at Percy's volume and traded a look with Nico as the other demigod twisted back to the rainbow.

"Now," the son of Poseidon said in a perfectly calm voice "you can see why I didn't want you to Iris Message me IN THE MIDDLE OF A FREAKING WAR!" His voice rose to a roar at the end of his little sentence.

Nico looked blatantly unimpressed. "Anger management, Percy. Anger management."

Harry gave him an incredulous look, as if to say _are you seriously that insane?_

Percy snorted as he dodged a rather pointy sword and stabbed the offending creature. "What do you want? And if it's something stupid, I swear, I'll murder you myself."

"We have a… little problem here," said Nico slowly, choosing his words very carefully.

"Boy-Who-Lived died?" asked Percy as he slashed at another monster.

Harry's eyes went wide. "Seriously?" he said to Nico with a raised eyebrow. "I'm right here!"

"I'll take that as a no, then."

Nico sighed exasperatedly as he ran a hand over his eyes tiredly. "Oh, Gods. Okay, the reason I called you is because we have a horde of Death Eaters trying to break through the Hogwarts wards and we need backup. The Aurors are preoccupied protecting Hogsmeade."

"I'm sorry, what? Hogs… what?"

"The town next to the magic school." The _you moron _went unsaid.

Percy frowned. "Well, I'm kinda busy at the moment, but I'll send Annabeth and her troops your way."

"Thanks, man. 'Cause if you don't send Annabeth, the Boy-Who-Lived _will_ die."

*** quoted directly from Julius Caesar; Latin for "I came, I saw, I conquered."**

**Booka: I know, I know. I'm horrible. Absolutely horrible. I really, really need to update faster. I'm SOO sorry. **

**Nico: On a brighter note, school's recently let out and all her finals are done. **

**Leo: Yay! Now she has no more excuses to her lateness and lack of updates! **

**Booka: *glares darkly* **

**REVIEW!**


	14. Don't Get Involved

**Booka: Hiya! It's little ol' me, back with a new chappie! Enjoy! **

**Warning: There is some cursing in this chapter. So if you're one of those people who are bothered by bad words and complain about them in a review, please bear with me and flame elsewhere. Thank you for your consideration.**

Nico trotted down from the castle, stumbling slightly over the sloping grounds of Hogwarts. He clutched his sword tightly, his eyes narrowed with determination. He strode forward with long, powerful steps. He could see the small group of demigods near the edge of the wards, their armor glinting in the evening sun. They seemed to be taunting the Death Eaters who were on the other side of the magical barrier. They were waving their weapons in the air, banging their swords against the shields to make noise and Nico could hear some of the insulting terms from where he was running.

"Hey, Death Gobblers!"

"Try and pull a rabbit outta a hat!"

"Stupid, idiot, nonmagic-hating bigots!"

"Where's your master now!"

The Death Eaters looked outraged and Nico could see flashes of hexes and curses flying at the demigods. They easily dodged and laughed harder at the wizards' angry expressions.

"We will kill you all!" one of the dark cloaked, masked sorcerers screamed as he threw an ugly black curse at a small, redheaded demigod.

The boy sidestepped, but only barely. "Try harder, Dracula! I'm still alive and kickin' over here!"

"WHAT THE HELL DO YOU THINK YOU'RE DOING!"

Nico knew that scream anywhere.

A tall, blonde woman with her hair in a long ponytail jogged over to the group from who-knows-where. She wore expertly crafted, bronze armor that shined brightly in the mid-afternoon sun and covered her torso down to her waist. Her fierce, stormy gray eyes zoned in on the demigods and she looked _mad_. Her pretty features were set in angry, stern lines and her strides were long and furious. She clutched her faithful dagger in one hand and a large shield in the other.

"Are you trying to get killed?" she whispered at the boy, glaring at the wizards.

He grinned cheekily up at her. "No. They are!" He pointed at the Death Eaters.

She sighed and rolled her eyes. "You're not gonna be laughing when they break through that ward. Try not to annoy them so much."

"Well, my dear Annabeth. Where's the fun in that?" Nico spoke up from behind, smirking slightly.

Annabeth turned around and grinned when she recognized him. Jogging over and hugging him tightly, (which was actually quite painful as she was in armor) she said "Nico! It's been so long. How have you been?"

Nico smiled. "I'm fine, but thanks for asking."

"So," continued Annabeth as she led him towards the group of demigods. "Where's the Boy-Who-Lived? I thought he would've been here, you know, defending his castle."

"Trust me, he wanted to. But I kinda locked him in the Boys' Dormitory," he answered with an impish grin.

She chuckled at him. "Oh, Nico."

"So," he said, glancing behind her to look at the troops, directing his question at Annabeth. "Have they ever fought against wizards before?"

"Only monsters taking orders from wizards," she answered. "This'll be the first time they've ever actually ever _fought_ them."

"And you?"

"I've fought what they've fought before." She frowned at him.

"I'll take that as a no, then," he murmured under his breath. _Great, Percy, just great. You dump a load of newbies on my head with no experience whatsoever and expect us to come out alive. I can work with that. _

"Okay guys!" yelled Annabeth at the crowd of warriors near the wards. "I know a lot of you haven't met Nico yet, so let me introduce to you the son of Hades. He's been stationed at Hogwarts for a while now and he's the one who warned Percy about the Death Eaters trying to break in! He's also the only one of us who knows the layout of the castle! So, if by some chance the Death Eaters infiltrate the wards, he's the one we're going to follow to escape!"

A couple of skeptical murmurs spread through the group. Now that Nico was closer to them, he noticed that the crowd wasn't very large. There were only a handful of people, but they looked like decent fighters. There were about twenty-somthing godlings here, excluding him and Annabeth.

"Nico," Annabeth said, pulling the demigod from his thoughts. "Would you like to say something?"

Nico nodded and bit his lip, watching as the daughter of Athena stepped back. "The thing you guys need to know is that wizards – no matter how foolish they look – are deadly."

There were a couple laughs at his words, but he looked at them, gravely serious and they went silent.

"I know that seems funny and all 'cause we're the children of the gods. We can beat anything we want. But that's not really true. They aim these supposedly harmless spells, these enchantments to kill us in the most painful, brutal ways possible. And I know what I'm talking about because I've researched these spells and they're very real. We're lucky we have Hecate by our side otherwise we probably wouldn't be able to win this war. You have to realize that we're going to need skill and determination to beat these guys. Hecate has cast a charm on our weapons so that we are able to deflect hexes and curses. But we still need to be careful or we're dead. So keep that in mind the next time you laugh when you have a stick in your face."

He stepped back and an awkward silence filled the void his words left in their wake.

Annabeth cleared her throat uncomfortably. "Yes. That's a very good point, Nico and we'll be sure to remember that in the fight that's coming. Do you think we'll need any back up?"

The son of Hades glanced up at the castle. "Maybe. But we have a school-full of wizards, so I think we'll have more help than we bargained for."

.

.

.

Harry laughed quietly to himself as he bolted down the staircase. Nico had locked the door with some sort of charm that repelled _alohomora, _so he had to sneak out of the dormitory through one of the secret passageways the Marauder's map showed. It had been under his bed, strange enough.

He slid on the banister (because that was the fastest way downstairs, of course) and halted when he reached the ground floor, eyes wide as he took in the crowd of students assembling at the castle's main door. He couldn't hear himself think over the shouting the students were doing. Filch's face was twisted and furious and he was yelling at some random first year, who looked like she wanted to cry. Harry narrowed his eyes, but then he saw some of the professors guarding the doors. McGonagall was arguing with Ginny and as he pushed his way through the flood of students, he managed to hear some of the conversation.

"…he's helping, so why can't we?"

"Nico is trained for these types of situations, that's why. His experience at his old school allows him to take the risk. You, however, are still preparing for your O.W.L.s."

"So that makes me incapable, huh!"

"Yes, Ms. Weasley, it does." McGonagall glared at her, eyes narrowed. "I will not let a sixteen year old girl risk her neck just because she believes she is able to duel several Death Eaters at a time." Her gaze switched to Harry. "And that goes the same to you, Mr. Potter."

Harry watched as the woman stalked off to scold some other fifth years who wanted to help before he turned to Ginny.

"Hey, Gin," he greeted with a smile.

She growled under her breath but her expression softened a little when she looked up at him. "Hullo Harry," she said.

"What was that?" he asked, nodding at the professor on the other side of the room.

"She doesn't think that I can help," she explained. "The DA can help too. Why can't she let us?"

"Because you'll be killed, that's why," he said, dead serious. "The Death Eaters are a bit harder to fight than training dummies, you know? We're just kids. We can't really just go out and win automatically. There'll be casualties no matter what, so we can't get involved unless we have to."

Ginny sighed and shuffled her feet. "I guess. But it feels really frustrating, staying here, doing nothing." She gazed at him curiously. "You've always been involved with this stuff, Harry. Doesn't it feel… odd, not helping?"

He shrugged. "A little. But I kinda feel happy I'm not in the spotlight for once. Besides, it's not as if they need me out there. I'd just get in the way."

"That's not true," said a voice from behind them. The two turned to see Hermione standing there with Ron at her shoulder. "You've helped plenty."

"Yeah," Ron added. "If it weren't for you, Ginny would be dead and Voldemort would have control over the entire Wizarding community."

Harry rolled his eyes. "Sure, sure, but besides that, I nearly got killed half of the time, so that makes up for all those times I've saved your butts."

Ron snorted.

"The Aurors are out there," said Hermione after a short pause, eyes directed outside a window near the doors. "They're going to fight the Death Eaters."

"No, they're not," Harry frowned. "The demigods are."

Ginny's eyebrows rose. "Really? The demigods? I thought they were far away from Hogwarts."

"The Aurors are in Hogsmeade protecting the people there, so they had to do something otherwise we're in trouble," he explained.

"But what is Nico doing out there?" asked Hermione, exchanging a glance with Harry.

"His school specializes in survival skills and defense courses," said Ginny. "so he can protect himself and the school."

"Who told you that?" Ron queried.

"Professor McGonagall."

"Of course," mumbled the redheaded boy as he looked towards the crowd swarming at the door.

.

.

.

Nico fiddled with his shield and adjusted the chest plate of metal into its correct position. It felt a little weird to be back in Greek body armor after so long. He scowled; he was letting himself go. _Get it together, dude, _he thought to himself as he pulled on his skull-shaped helmet, which glinted black in the light, just like the rest of his armor. He was on the edge of the forest with the battalion of demigods, out of the Death Eaters' sights. Seated on a rock a little way from the group of warriors, he was focusing all his efforts on preparing for the soon-to-come battle. He was stretching out his limbs, piling on armor, praying to his father and relatives and refilling his supply of nectar and ambrosia. The part of his torso down to his hips was covered with metal and his shins were strapped into shin-guards with black, steel-toed boots. He was in the middle of sharpening his sword, Nightmare, when Annabeth approached him.

"Hey," said the daughter of Athena.

"Hmm," he grunted in respond, not even looking up at her.

She perched on the outcropping of stone next to him, staring up at the sky with large eyes. She was wearing heavy Greek armor just like him only it was modified to be more fitting for a girl. Her long, curly hair was tied into a tighter-than-usual ponytail and she was playing with Luke's dagger in her fingers, turning it over and over.

"Nervous?" Nico asked, grating the rock against his sword with a renewed vigor.

She laughed lightly and turned towards him. "Nervous? Try terrified beyond belief."

"Do you always get like this before a battle?"

"No," she admitted. "Only now, it's different. We're up against something I've never heard of before, let alone ever fought against." Annabeth looked at him with an odd expression in her eyes. "How are you not scared?"

His hands stilled and for a moment, he glanced up and met her bemused gaze. "I've been through worse, I guess." He shrugged. "S'not a big deal for me anymore. Besides, I'm used to dealing with wizards and magic now. It's probably a little scary for you 'cause you have no idea what you're doing."

Annabeth smiled and sighed. "You're pretty wise for a kid, Nico."

"I'll take that as a compliment, Annie," he said sarcastically.

"Call me that again and I'll gut you alive," she threatened coolly and crossed her ankles elegantly.

"The wards aren't going to last that long, are they?" Nico asked quietly after a short pause.

Annabeth took a little while longer to answer than what Nico thought was necessary. "Yeah," she murmured.

"But how is that possible?" Nico protested. "They're, like, centuries old!"

"Yeah and they need to be recharged every other century to make sure they're working," said Annabeth. "And they can't really recharge them when they're in the middle of an attack."

The son of Hades sighed loudly. "So, now what?"

"So now we take the fight to them. I dunno about you, but I'm not about to let them have the first punch. If we do, then…" She made a slicing motion against her throat. "There's another group of demigods surrounding them a little North of here. When we give the signal, they attack from behind while the D.E.s are preoccupied with us up front. They'll have no idea what hit them."

"Okay," said Nico. "We play offense. I can deal with that."

"Get ready," she ordered as she stood up, brushing off her pants and chest plate. "We're going to be attacking in five."

He mock-saluted her. "Whatever you say Captain Annabeth."

"That's General Chase to you," she sniffed before smiling and nudging his shoulder. "I see why Percy likes talking to you so much. See ya later Nico."

"Bye Annabeth," he said. "I'll see you after the battle…" _If we're not killed first, _he finished inside his head.

.

.

.

Nico was standing in the battle line with several other demigods, sword drawn and lips turned downward as they charged towards the wizards. They ran in a familiar, organized formation, running as fast as they could. The Death Eaters laughed at them at first and raised their wands, planning on blasting the warriors to Kingdom Come with a single curse. All they saw when they looked at them was a group of kids who were far out of their league. But that prediction changed when a demigod's sword slashed a man's arm off with no hesitance or remorse whatsoever.

There was a moment of complete silence that was broken with the magician's keen of pure agony.

And all Hell broke loose.

There were bright flashes of spells being thrown back and forth. Nico found that when he blocked the hexes with his charmed shield and sword, they fizzled out of existence. Of course, it was a little hard to block the curses because they were so bright and it was hard to pinpoint exactly where they were going to land on his body. There was a lot of blood and guts, mostly because the godlings were vicious when fighting. Nico heard someone scream and he knew it was one of the demigods. He turned and his eyes widened when he saw a boy being put under the Cruciatus curse only a few feet away from where he stood.

Nico growled and, with a flick of his wrist, the Death Eater was on the ground, gurgling and coughing blood.

The other demigod staggered to his feet and Nico shouted over the clanging of metal "Are you okay?" He noticed it was the redheaded boy who had been taunting the Death Eaters before and he frowned. Obviously, the Death Eater who had been torturing him had aimed for the boy, who looked very young to be in a fight with these deadly sorcerers.

The boy nodded and swallowed shakily before grabbing a blade that lay haphazardly on the ground and charging back into battle.

Nico watched him go before brandishing his own sword and hacking down another wizard. The man shrieked and fell with a spurt of blood from his throat. There was a flash of red from across the field just as his blade touched the man's neck and Nico was a little too slow to react. It burned into his forearm and the son of Hades gasped a curse word as the magic ate away his armor, burning his skin a little bit when it did. The smell of burnt flesh pierced the air and he grimaced, but he ignored the pain and dodged the second curse the same Death Eater threw at him.

Nobody expected him to rush the Death Eater recklessly, dodging spells from both the warlock and his accomplices. Nico deflected another Cruciatus Curse just as he was nearly closing on the Death Eater. The hilt of his sword smashed into the side of the wizard's head and the man let out a scream of pain as he crumpled to the ground, unconscious. It would've been very easy to kill him. A small cut through his corroded artery and he'd be as good as dead. But something held Nico back. So, instead of murdering the man, he simply sneered and spat at the wizard that lay at his feet.

He heard Annabeth scream. "NICO, LOOK OUT!"

He turned.

A bright green _Avada Kedavra_ was headed towards him with such speed that he wasn't able to dodge.

He narrowed his eyes and with his head held high, he stared straight at the curse as it shot towards him. It slammed into his chest…

_Time stood still for one second. _

…and ricocheted right off his heart straight into the head of the man who tried to kill him. As the body collapsed, Nico bent his head out of respect (for the dead, of course, not the idiot who actually thought he could kill the son of Hades).

Nobody had actually been paying attention to him, as they were in the middle of a battle, so he wouldn't be proclaimed as the second Boy-Who-Lived, thank the Gods. It wasn't any of his wizarding powers that allowed him to escape Death. Only, it seemed that Thanatos favored him for a reason unknown to him. The God of Death seemed to ignore any near-death experiences Nico had. The demigod suspected the Fates put Thanatos up to it – not that he was complaining. It was rather refreshing to know death wouldn't come so easily to him. Of course, it just meant that the Fates had a rather specific death for him in mind. Most likely, it was something spectacular and terrifyingly painful.

Nico wasn't exactly comforted by that thought.

Of course, he had other things to worry about at the moment, so he ignored the tight knot of apprehension in his stomach and told himself in a stern (mental) voice _'Pull yourself together, so help me, or you'll almost-die a second time you stupid boy; only this time it'll be _my_ knife in your throat and not an overzealous Death Eater with a score to settle.' _So, he jumped back into the fight without a second thought.

And then the worst happened.

Annabeth screamed, long and loud.

Nico's breath caught as he turned.

Blood was streaming down her face and her eyes were screwed shut in pain. Her body was jerking in an unnatural way, spasms racking her body; the part of her skin that was not covered in red, red blood was a pale, ashen color. Her left arm looked dislocated, it hung at such a sickening angle, and there were several thin gashes ripped throughout her armor.

A loud, high voice cackled hard. Slowly, the sounds of battle died away as the laughter grew in volume and cruelty. The demigods didn't expect this. Hell, Nico didn't expect this. Nobody in their right minds would be laughing in a warzone.

Then again, Voldemort could hardly be called in his right mind.

.

.

.

Everything had been relatively calm in the Common Room. McGonagall had banished all students to their respective Common Rooms while the castle was under attack. All and any pupils caught roaming the halls would be punished with detention for the rest of the school year and 100 points would be taken from their house. The extra severe punishment just proved to all houses that the siege on the wards was very real and very dangerous.

Finally, Harry couldn't take the tense energy of the living area any longer. He stood abruptly and all eyes turned to him. Ignoring the attention piled onto him, he turned to Ron and Hermione.

"Going up to the dormitory," he murmured as he trudged away upstairs.

"Tired?" asked Hermione, her brow crinkled with concern.

"Exhausted," he answered, not looking back.

Once Harry was alone in the sleeping room, he collapsed onto his bed, his head aching and his throat dry with nerves. His scar stung badly and when he brushed his fingers across it, the area of skin surrounding the lightning bolt felt puffy and irritated. Something stirred and knotted inside his stomach; his scar never hurt unless something genuinely dangerous was about to happen. Usually, it involved a certain You-Know-Who and Harry doubted that it would sting just because of a simple Death Eater raid.

Harry was proven right when the silvery white form of a Patronus leapt into his room, through the window to stand long and lithe on the wooden floor. He had always thought that Patronuses were gaseous and could slip through solid things, so this just proved his theory.

The Patronus was a beautiful, muscular panther with gleaming eyes and a silky dark silver coat. Its fur rippled with strength and those feline eyes stared at him with such awesome intelligence that Harry felt his breath catch. Somehow, he knew this Patronus was Nico's. Then, the muzzle of the panther opened and Harry caught sight of the ridiculously long, sharp fangs the cat held in its mouth. _Yep,_ he thought to himself, _definitely Nico's._

The demigod's voice emanated deep from within the panther's throat. Its mouth didn't move, but Harry knew that the voice came from the Patronus. The words it spoke made his veins run cold.

"_Voldemort has come to Hogwarts. Warn the teachers and the students. Prepare for the fight of your life. I have sent word to both Percy and Chiron, the centaur. And whatever you do Potter, Zeus help me, _stay alive_." _

Harry bolted to his feet before the Patronus even managed to dissolve and was downstairs before he could count to three. He never had run so fast in his life before.

"Harry?" said Hermione, bewildered.

He didn't notice her. He had already ripped through the Common Room and was halfway out of the hole leading into the corridor when he heard her shout at him.

"Harry! You can't leave the Common Room yet! We're still under attack!"

"This is more important than my own safety, Hermione!" he yelled back before disappearing down the hallway, his feet slapping against the floor in a fast paced rhythm.

Things just got more dangerous than ever.

.

.

.

When Voldemort had made his extremely exciting entrance, Nico had melted unnoticed into the back of the crowd of demigods to very quietly send Harry that Patronus. Hopefully, the Boy-Who-Lived would already be warning the school of the Dark Lord's appearance on the wards.

Nudging his way back to the front of the group to hear the snakelike man speak, he shifted his sword on his hip nervously. Voldemort's serpentine looks both impressed and scared him terribly. His skin was chalky white and his skull was bare from hair. His slits for nostrils flared with amusement as his red-as-blood eyes surveyed the ragged group of godlings. His tall, skeletal figure was clothed with long flowing, black robes. His unnaturally extensive fingers were clutching a slender, dark wand which was held threateningly over Annabeth. Nico knew that earlier in life Tom Marvolo Riddle was a handsome, dark haired man with pale blue eyes. It was weird to think of this genocidal maniac as something so ordinary. He just exuded a sort of sinister aura that sent shivers down the son of Hades's spine. He'd never felt something like that (excluding his father, of course, but Hades exuded Death and Fear on a much larger scale and almost never used it on Nico unless it was a rather severe punishment).

Abrupt shouts and screams of protest and insults suddenly erupted from the group of godlings, the loud noises wrenching the son of Hades from his musings. Voldemort had been talking while Nico had been lost in his thoughts. From what Nico managed to pick up from the cries of outrage, the man had been trying to goad the demigods into switching sides.

"You seem to have forgotten!" yelled a thin brunette with blood trickling down her face. "Us Greeks are closely related to the wizards! My own mother Hecate bore the first seven magicians in existence! You turn on kin, you turn on us all!"

The smirk on Voldemort's face was frightening. "You seem to forget that we are wizards also."

"Not the type of wizard I'd actually enjoy talking to. You don't understand how blood works. How _families_ work." The same girl glared at him, daring the wizard to argue.

"Believe me; I understand the importance of blood relations." The man twirled his wand and sneered dangerously at her.

She snorted contemptuously and lifted her chin. "You understand nothing about blood, you self-conceited racist. The only thing your narrow-minded brain cares about is the fact that the parents of your followers are wizards like you. Pale faced bastard."

A Cruciatus Curse sailed high over her head from one of the Death Eaters and for a moment, both sides were yelling insults and threats, the demigods going as far as to draw weapons and shoot arrows while the wizards brandished their wands and spelled curses.

Then, the high, impressive voice of Lord Voldemort boomed over the battlefield. Obviously, he had amplified his voice with some sort of spell. _Sonorus_, Nico believed it was.

"SILENCE!" roared the Dark Lord. Automatically, everyone's mouth locked shut and they turned to Voldemort, who was smiling viciously at the girl.

"Brave words, my dear fool, but words that will have you killed."

"Who's gonna kill me? You? You're just some stuck up pureblood with his head up his ass and his skinny white throat begging to be split." She twirled her sword and pointed it at him.

Honestly, Nico wondered whether the girl had a suicide wish or something. You just don't threaten an armed Voldemort and expect to live.

So he wasn't particularly surprised when the girl was dragged to the Dark Lord, kicking and screaming by what looked like an invisible chain. Did he try to stop it? Of course. Was he stopped in his tracks by the words Voldemort spoke? Hell yeah.

"Today, this girl will be killed in the most painful way possible," said He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named as he gripped the neck of the poor brunette.

The sea of demigods surged forward as one at the threat but was stalled when Voldemort raised a hand. "Try anything and the girl dies."

The battalion stilled and glared fiercely. They couldn't do anything at the moment and Nico knew they couldn't let one hostage keep them from defending the border. So if it came down to it, they'd have to sacrifice the girl. Nico didn't like that course of action at all.

"She will die," continued Voldemort. "Unless you step forward!" he boomed.

The demigods murmured, unsure about who he was addressing.

"Step forward!" the Dark Lord repeated, glaring.

And then, it clicked.

"Damn it all," Nico muttered to himself before squaring his shoulders and stepping away from the crowd into the line of fire. All eyes shot to him and his hand automatically went to his sword from nerves. "It's me you want." His voice didn't shake. "Put the girl down."

Voldemort smirked and laughed evilly. "And you are, Mister…?"

_Names have power. _"Jonathan Arantes," he answered, meeting the Dark Lord's. "Son of Hermes."

"Hmm. I can tell you're lying. So I suggest – before this poor girl loses an ear – you tell the truth. What is your name?"

Nico glowered. He didn't like being caught lying by anyone, evil lord or not. "My name is Nico di Angelo."

The smirk grew more pronounced. "And your godly parent?"

"My dad's Hades, lord of the Underworld." _And at least he's an actual lord, not a self-pronounced one like you._

The sneer disappeared and Voldemort watched him with an unreadable expression on his face. Nico couldn't tell whether that was good or bad.

"You are Hades's son?"

He nodded jerkily, eyes narrowed. "Yes. Is there a problem?"

"No." He had a nasty, downright dangerous glint in his eyes. "You're the one I've been hearing about, now? The one with the Death Touch. The one who can kill with only a blink. I was under the impression that you were female."

Nico shook his head as people – demigods and wizards alike – whispered and stared at him. "No, you have me confused with someone else." _Crypta sure knows how leave an impression, I'll give her that._

"Hmm." Voldemort watched Nico carefully. "She killed over half of my followers in one battle. Yet, she never came close to me, did she? Never even looked in my direction. And I noticed when my troops were fighting demigods, not once did one of you attempt to fight me unless absolutely necessary. At first, I thought it was simply fear, but when I reached into the minds of my opponents, I found not fear but purpose. They were purposely avoiding me as a strategy, not because of terror. Now, perhaps you can tell me why." As he talked, his wand began to draw small circles in the girl's neck, who's eyes were closed tightly.

Nico laughed softly before shaking his head a little in disbelief. "You honestly don't understand, do you? Figures. You wizards are all the same. I had to explain it seven times to the Wizengamot before they were able to see what I was talking about."

Voldemort patiently waited, tapping his wand against the captured demigod's throat.

Nico unsheathed his sword and automatically, every wand in the vicinity was pointed at him – except for Voldemort's of course. But the demigod simply stuck it into the ground before leaning on it, looking at the Dark Lord with bored eyes.

"We're not here to kill you," he said simply. "We're not here to end this war." He smirked. "We're here to make sure things go as planned."

"As planned…" echoed Voldemort.

"You see," Nico continued, "There is a prophecy about you – the Dark Lord – and Harry Potter – the Boy-Who-Lived. Guess who made that prophecy."

"Sybil Trelawney." The serpentine man was staring.

"No. The Fates did. And they don't particularly like it when their predictions don't go as planned. So, in order to make sure you meet your demise at the right time and in the right way – as the prophecy predicts – we're here to make sure Harry kills you right." His smirk was chilling. "Other than that, we don't get involved besides protecting and helping wizards when we can. The Fates are fickle creatures, Voldemort. Don't try and avoid them. Because it won't end well."

**Booka: Phew! This chapter's done. God, it's been a little annoying with Nico breathing down my neck when I'm trying to write. **

**Nico: Hey! **

**Booka: *Sigh* Damn, it's hot up here in NY. I'm all sweaty and I'm sleepy, (even though it's, like, what, only 8:30 pm) and I have nothing witty at all to say right now. Nothing. Not at all. This bit right here? This isn't funny. It's not! It's not, I tell you!**

**Nico: Just review. **


	15. Stupefy

**Previously in SODAH: **

_"There's another group of demigods surrounding them __**(the Death Eaters) **__a little North of here. When we give the signal, they attack from behind while the D.E.s are preoccupied with us up front. They'll have no idea what hit them." – Annabeth_

…

_"We're not here to kill you," Nico said simply. "We're not here to end this war." He smirked. "We're here to make sure things go as planned."_

_"As planned…" echoed Voldemort._

_"You see," Nico continued, "There is a prophecy about you – the Dark Lord – and Harry Potter – the Boy-Who-Lived. Guess who made that prophecy."_

_"Sybil Trelawney." The serpentine man was staring._

_"No. The Fates did. And they don't particularly like it when their predictions don't go as planned. So, in order to make sure you meet your demise at the right time and in the right way – as the prophecy predicts – we're here to make sure Harry kills you right." His smirk was chilling. "Other than that, we don't get involved besides protecting and helping wizards when we can. The Fates are fickle creatures, Voldemort. Don't try and avoid them. Because it won't end well."_

**Now, continued:**

There was a moment of complete silence, in which Nico's black eyes clashed with Voldemort's red ones.

It happened quickly and without warning.

Voldemort – in a swift and merciless movement – cut the girl's windpipe with his wand, sneering viciously before letting go of the now limp demigod.

The godlings, who hadn't had time to stop the Dark Lord from killing the brown haired girl, charged in outrage, screaming bloody murder as they clashed with spells and wizards.

The Death Eaters surged as one in retaliation, flinging curses high and wide with murderous intent.

As soon as the battle began, Nico dropped to his knees, avoiding the arrows and spells being shot over his head.

The fight had just started and was already fierce and bloody. The screams were beginning to start up again and the thud of flesh hitting the ground filled his ears. Nico grunted and crawled on his hands and knees to the girl who had been captured. She lay on the ground, motionless and gasping, steadily turning blue from the lack of air. When he finally reached her, Nico winced. The cut was deep and blood was streaming down her neck. Unhooking a flask of nectar from his belt, Nico gently poured some of the godly drink onto her wound. The skin automatically mended together, but he knew it was a close call. Her eyes fluttered closed as she lost consciousness. He gripped her upper arms and dragged the girl to the side, towards Annabeth, who lay still.

Placing the girl carefully next to them, Nico kneeled next to Annabeth.

"_Shit,"_ he breathed. Now that he was closer, he was able to see that Annabeth's arm was not dislocated, but had been brutally broken. The bone was visible and was poking out of her shoulder, a steady trickle of blood gushing from the wound. Retracting his wand from his pocket, he gently placed the tip of the wooden stick to the girl's shoulder. Murmuring an incantation under his breath, Nico watched as the bone receded into skin. The flesh sewed itself up and smoothed over. He anxiously unstrapped her of her armor and checked her over for any more injuries. She didn't seem that hurt other than a few scratches and bruises, so Voldemort must've put the girl under the Cruciatus Curse. Nico was relieved to see that she seemed to be suffering from blood loss and nothing else. But her eyes were still closed though.

He gently smacked her cheek as he pulled her into a sitting position. "Come on, Annabeth. Wake up." He shook her and she growled in her sleep. "Wake up!" he shouted.

Her dark gray eyes opened and she stared at him blurrily. "Nico…?" she slurred and her lids slipped lower.

"Annabeth, stay with me! We're in the middle of a battle here… _Don't you dare go to sleep on me, damn it…!"_

She jolted back awake and shook her head, like she was shooing away flies. "Ugh. Did I hit my head or something?"

"It doesn't matter, you're gonna be okay now. Annabeth, the signal! The signal!"

"Signal," she repeated, staring at him wearily. "For the demigods on the other side of the field?"

"Yes, Annabeth, the signal. C'mon, we're dying over here! _What did I say about going to sleep…!" _

"Signal…" She seemed to struggle to stay awake. "It's a flare. You light it and it shoots into the air like a rocket. It's here." She shifted and she managed to pull it out of her shirt pocket and shove it at him before her eyes snapped shut, her breathing shallow.

"Thank you, Annabeth," he whispered as he rolled her onto her back and stood up. Nico took out his wand from his pocket and spelled a shield around both the daughter of Athena and the girl that lay next to her. They wouldn't be hurt in the battle, not with his protection surrounding them. Nico gripped the small firework in his hand tightly. Jogging towards an outcropping of rock, he scaled stone wall quickly, ignoring sharp prickles of discomfort when he scraped a hand or a knee. Soon, he was at the peak of the projection of stone, hands bleeding. He filed away a mental note to get himself some battle gloves if he got out of this alive.

Placing his wand to the tip of the wire of the flare, he murmured _"Incendio," _and a flame leapt up onto the wick before catching and greedily devouring the wire. Backing away, Nico watched, satisfied, as the flame traveled along the line to ignite the firework, sending a burst of red sparks up in the air. A loud explosion banged across the field and for a moment, the people stopped their fighting to watch the bright flash before the brawl starting right back up again.

Nico sighed in relief. The backup would be coming soon. He didn't need to worry about that anymore.

"_Stupefy!" _screamed someone behind him.

He felt a sensation similar to being punched in the spine before he fell to his knees. Before sinking into oblivion, Nico managed to grab hold of the rocks underneath him and not slide off the edge of the wall. And then, darkness settled in.

.

.

.

He woke up to a blinding, glaring white light. His first thought was _'This isn't the Underworld. We don't have a ghostly white light or a tunnel, unless Hades is messing with me.' _Blinking awake, he managed to see that he was in the infirmary. The firm mattress cushioning him was a hospital bed. Sitting up and propping his back onto a hard pillow, he shook his head roughly to dislodge any lingering sleep.

"You're awake. Good," said a crisp voice next to him.

Nico looked up at Madam Pomfrey who had just closed a privacy curtain around the cot to his left. "What happened?" he asked, his voice rough before breaking down into a small coughing fit.

Madam Pomfrey handed him a tall glass of water and watched as the demigod gulped it down greedily, abandoning his usual grace and being a teenager for once. "You and your demigods won," she said simply. "But you were discovered out of action on top of a large hill of rock, unconscious. We managed to levitate you down. I didn't find any other injuries besides you being victim to an over powered _stupefy_, lucky for you."

Nico rubbed his forehead dazedly before remembering. "Oh, my Gods. Annabeth! Where is she?" He stared at the medi-witch, trying to glare the information out of her.

"Annabeth…" The witch's brow furrowed in thought before smoothing over. "Oh! Yes, the blonde haired girl. She's perfectly fine. She lost quite a bit of blood, but we were able to replenish it, so she does not need to rest that much. And other than that nasty broken arm – which you healed quite nicely, by the way – she had sustained no other lasting injuries."

Nico let out a breath of relief, not just for Annabeth's safety, for his as well. Percy would've killed him if Nico had let the son of Poseidon's girlfriend die on his watch.

"In fact," continued Madam Pomfrey. "She and Ms. Lopez wish to have an audience with you right now. Do you think you are up to it?"

Nico frowned. _Ms. Lopez? _He shrugged. "Sure. Why not?"

Madam Pomfrey nodded at him before turning around and walking away. Nico stared up at the ceiling blankly. He glanced to his right and winced. A bandage-swathed demigod was lying on the cot next to him, covered in so much gauze that he couldn't tell whether the godling was a girl or a boy. A sick sense of empathy bubbled up inside Nico.

"Hey, Nico." A soft voice interrupted his thoughts.

He turned towards the voice and smiled when he saw Annabeth, looking tired and pale but otherwise healthy and the girl who Voldemort had attempted to kill. _So that's Ms. Lopez…_

The dark haired girl gave a shy wave. Her attitude was entirely different than the fierce, no-bull-crap thing she had pulled in front of the Dark Lord and his minions. Now that she was off the battlefield, she seemed smaller and quieter.

"Thanks for helping me back there," continued Annabeth as she perched on the edge of his bed. "I'm not sure what would've happened if you hadn't been there."

"Me too," said the girl. "My name's Gabby, by the way."

Nico nodded at her. "So, how long was I out?"

"A couple hours," answered Annabeth. "We were kinda worried because you didn't wake up when the nurse waved her stick over you and stuff."

"Apparently," said Nico "some Death Eaters don't know how to cast a simple stunning spell." He rolled his eyes.

Annabeth snorted. "Whatever that means. Anyways, the demigods'll be leaving soon; today, actually. So, I just wanted to give you a heads up that we're gonna be gone by tomorrow." She reached over and ruffled his hair, to his annoyance. "And, I wanted to compliment you on your fighting skills. Good job."

He smiled at her, pleased. "Thanks."

"Oh, and some girl and a demigod are here to see you, along with the Chosen One," chimed in Gabby, her voice taking on a nervous edge.

"Some girl? Demigod?" asked Nico with a raised eyebrow.

"Crypta and Percy," Annabeth deadpanned.

"Oh, I'm so dead."

.

.

.

Harry was anxiously waiting outside of the school infirmary. Not because of Nico – no, Madam Pomfrey had reassured him that the demigod was in perfect health. What made him nervous was a certain fuming girl who sat next to him, legs crossed, arms folded. Her cheeks were red with anger and her bottom lip was jutting out in a very good pout. Harry hadn't seen her in a couple of months and she looked different than the elegant, alluring girl he had met before. She seemed different. She wasn't wearing any makeup – her trademark black lipstick was gone and her eyes were shadowed silver and black like they had been before. Her black nail polish was chipped and they were in need of a new paintjob, even though her claws were still as long and as sharp as ever. Her skin wasn't as yellowish, but now it seemed to have taken on a grayish hue. Her mercury eyes were just as large and as brilliant as before though with long, thin lashes, but the white of them were tinted red. She wore a V-necked black t-shirt and some ripped dark wash jeans. A silver cross pendant hung from her neck.

Crypta didn't seem half as intimidating as she'd been a couple months ago.

"He's okay, you know," said Harry in an attempt to soothe the ruffled immortal. "He's not dead."

"That's good," Crypta snapped, glaring. "That way I don't have to yell at him in the Underworld. As it is, he's in so much trouble, it'd be better if he'd died, that way he could get it from his father and not me."

Harry winced. "Okay, never mind then. Try not to rip into him that much. He was just trying to protect the school like he's supposed to."

"Oh, great," she sighed, deflated. "Now I feel guilty for being mad at him."

"Why so mad at him anyway?"

"He got hurt. I'm one of his close friends. I'm supposed to get mad at him when he's hurt." She shrugged. "That's one of the rules, I guess."

Harry snorted. "Good argument."

"I try." She did a little bow from her seat before slumping backwards. "I'm just glad this entire raid is over. One less thing to worry about, you know? You did the right thing."

He quirked an eyebrow at her. "The right thing?"

"Telling Dumbledore about Voldemort and all that," she clarified. "They contacted Zeus and we were able to stop some of the Death Eaters from apparating outta here.

"How'd they do that?"

Crypta rolled her eyes. "Apparating is a form of air travel. It's just too fast for you to actually realize it. And Zeus is able to control the atmosphere as he is the Lord of the Skies. So… good job."

Harry smiled slightly. "Thanks."

"Nico told me that you found out what he was," Crypta continued. "And that you took it well."

Harry shrugged. "I had my suspicions, even if they weren't exactly mine in the first place. Nico just confirmed what we already knew."

"Well, you're just one big smarty-pants, aren't ya?" She laughed and reached over to ruffle his already messy hair.

He batted her hand away and scowled at her good-naturedly. "No, that's Hermione's job, actually." They fell into a comfortable silence that was broken by the slapping of feet against stone. An older boy rounded the corner of the corridor and stopped when he saw the two of them there. He looked slightly familiar with pale green-blue and ruffled black hair. He was lean and tall and Harry remembered his face. It was Percy, Nico's cousin. The demigod's eyes scanned them before landing suspiciously on Crypta.

Automatically, her entire demeanor shifted. She looked at the boy coolly. "Jackson." Her voice dripped with displeasure.

He sneered. "Bakas," he returned.

Crypta's eyes flashed with fury before the anger disappeared completely. "Who?" she asked, looking innocently oblivious.

Percy scowled.

She placed her head in her palm and looked at the son of Poseidon. "May I ask what you're doing here?"

"Sure, but don't expect an answer," he quipped before rolling his eyes. "My girlfriend's hurt. Nico nearly died. Of course I'm going to be here."

She scoffed but didn't look away, her arms crossed.

Harry shifted, uncomfortable. There was a nasty sort of tension in the air and the way Percy and Crypta were trying to melt each other with glares was putting him on edge.

"Er… did I miss something?" he voiced to no one in particular. "What's wrong with you two?"

"Nothing," they chorused before glaring at each other.

"No, seriously," Harry insisted. "You guys seem like you're trying to gut each other alive with your eyes."

"It's got nothing to do with you, Harry," Percy said.

"It's got everything to do with the fact that you left me imprisoned in the Underworld just so you could bring some stupid sword to Olympus!" Crypta leapt up, snarling.

Temper rising, Percy's nostrils flared and he stood his ground, yelling. "You're the one who set all the hellhounds in New York on me for two months!"

"And you're the one who snuck into Hades with Nico to place a poisonous snake in my bed!" she shot back.

"You're immortal! You can't die! It was just a joke! Get over it!"

"Well, maybe if you hadn't pissed me off we wouldn't be having this conversation!"

"Oh, Lord," said an amused voice from behind them. "What _are_ you two doing?"

The two turned to see Harry and Nico watching from the doorway of the infirmary. Harry had clamped his hand over his mouth to stifle his snickers and Nico was watching them with amusement in his eyes and a smirk on his mouth.

"I thought I said I didn't like you fighting," mused the son of Hades.

"They don't really listen, do they?" asked Harry, genuinely interested.

"Not particularly, no," chimed in a feminine voice that came from behind the two who were in the threshold. Annabeth moved to stand next to Harry, laughing softly.

The glower that had been present on Percy's face disappeared and he grinned at his girlfriend. "Annabeth!" He bounded forward and engulfed her in a large hug, holding her tightly. "Are you okay? They told me you broke an arm! Does it hurt? Why aren't you wearing a cast?"

"Oh, for the love of Gaia…!" Crypta groaned in revulsion.

"No one loves Gaia, sweetie," Nico commented.

"That's not the point," she pouted. "PDA's disgusting."

"It's called true love, Death Breath," retorted Percy, glaring. "Get used to it."

Harry laughed, but clicked his jaw shut when they all turned to look at him.

"Relax," Annabeth placated her boyfriend, rolling her eyes and taking the attention off of Harry. "Their doctors healed me already. See?" She flailed her arm around before wiggling out of Percy's grasp and dusting herself off.

"So you're all better?" he asked anxiously.

"Yes. She's fine. Now, do we need to leave you two alone so you can go make kissy faces at each other?" said Nico sarcastically.

"Hardy har, har," huffed Percy.

Harry smiled at the demigods before his eyes widened when Nico turned to him, grinning widely. "So I take it you got my message?" he said.

"What? The Patronus? Yeah, I got it." Harry shuffled his feet and looked intently at his hands. "Erm, I told Dumbledore and he passed it on to… the Gods." He found it a little awkward discussing… gods at the moment; it still weirded him out a little to think that _gods _existed, let alone ones that had children on a regular basis.

Nico nodded his expression thoughtful. "Good. Thanks for telling them. It was the right move."

"So… what now? The Death Eaters have run away and there aren't any more threats at the moment."

"Now, Harry," Nico smirked. "We wait."

"For what?"

The demigod shrugged. "Something else to make us miserable, I guess."

**Booka: Hmmm. This was more of a filler chapter than anything. I like the final product, though. So, any comments, any flames, any things I need to improve on? I'd love to hear your opinion. On a separate note, I'm going to be visiting my grandmother in Florida! Yay! Only downside is that we're driving, not flying there so it'll be eighteen hours until I can start typing again. Boo! But, hey, it's Florida! Yippee! Now, let's see what the demigods have to say about it.**

**Nico: I'm getting pretty tired of this. Seriously. We're not some kind of advertisement gig that you can summon at will to use to ask for reviews. WE'RE HUMAN BEINGS!**

**Leo: Not really. We're fictional characters at the mercy of a teenage girl. So, not human beings. **

**Nico: Thanks for the support, bro. **

**Leo: Anytime. **

**Booka: ANYWAYS, thanks for reading and leave a review in the box underneath us! Bye!**


	16. The Aftermath

**Booka: Hey guys! It's me again! I'm writing to you from Florida in my grandmother's dining room. I haven't been able to go on at all lately because **_**mi abuela **_**doesn't have Wi-Fi at her house, so the only way I'm able to get Internet is to either go to Barnes and Nobles (the bookstore) or hope my cousin gets a new, transportable Internet hotspot. Blah. **

**So, hope you like the chapter! Bye!**

Two pitch black eyes fluttered open tiredly and a small mouth opened to yawn loudly. Sunshine was trickling into the Infirmary, lighting up the white and gray hall surprisingly nicely. As the warmth touched Nico's cheek, he found himself smiling slightly to himself. It was nice and warm in his bed and he felt reluctant to wake, so he just closed his eyes again and let himself drift, not exactly sleeping, but not really awake either. His pillow was soft against his face and that was the only sensation he felt for another good half-hour. Normally, he wasn't so lazy, but it was a Saturday and he didn't feel like getting up. _I don't _feel_ like getting up,_ Nico thought snidely to himself, imagining his father's reaction if he caught him sleeping in instead of training or fighting or something stupid like that. Then, he frowned, because he remembered why he was at Hogwarts in the first place. Knowing he wouldn't get anymore sleep as he would be too busy brooding and feeling miserable, Nico sat up and propped himself up against his pillows, looking formidable and a little grumpy. His black hair was ruffled and messy and his eyes were heavily lidded with sleep. Noticing he was still in the hospital striped pajamas, he took out his wand and magicked some real clothes on himself. A dark blue V-neck and a pair of black ripped jeans, no shoes.

It had roughly been about a week after the attack on the wards. Nothing very important had happened afterwards, though. Voldemort and several of his Death Eaters had managed to escape before Zeus was able to secure the area. It was scary how fast the Dark Lord had reacted after Nico had sent the signal. He'd apparated away as soon as the flare had gone off, not even bothering to tell his followers to retreat as well. A handful of Death Eaters had been captured and taken in for questioning. According to the _Daily Prophet,_ one of them had been a powerful executive in the Magical Reinforcement Department. Everything seemed to be running nicely.

Things hadn't been going as smoothly for Nico, though. That afternoon following the battle, he'd felt a deep, excruciating pain in his lower back. When he went to the Infirmary to get checked out, Madam Pomfrey had discovered that the overpowered _stupefy_ Nico had been hit with had knocked against an old wound on his spine and had caused severe muscle and nerve damage above his tailbone. Nico remembered how he'd gotten the old injury. He had nearly been killed by a bloodthirsty drakon in Oregon. His back had been badly burned and maimed from the reptile's fire and claws and his blackened spine had been visible, the gashes and burns had been so deep. The medi-witch had said that he'd have to stay in the hospital wing for a week or so for treatment, otherwise he could be paralyzed. Madam Pomfrey couldn't rely on charms and spell work to heal his back as they were too unspecific and widespread, so she had turned to the delicate work of creams and potions and elixirs. Everything had to be carefully applied and to make matters worse Nico couldn't take any painkillers, as it would render the entire process useless.

Nico hadn't taken the news that well. At first, he'd been furious with himself for letting his guard down in a potentially fatal situation, but now he was more reluctant and impatient than sullen and angry like he'd been in the beginning. The flashes of pain were less common now and Madam Pomfrey had discovered that Muggle medications didn't affect magical healing methods, so she'd allowed him to down regular aspirins instead of pain-relief potions. He had a couple of regular visitors, he was happy to say. Harry and Ron came by frequently, keeping him updated about recent news, Hogwarts related or not. Hermione brought him classwork and extra notes that she had copied for him and helped him with his homework. She was surprisingly pleasant to work with, he found. Luna had come to the Infirmary only a couple of times. Apparently, the snafu-blasts had been telling her that stopping by too frequently would halt the healing process and bring down the wrath of karma on her head. She had apologized and Nico had just laughed, saying he understood and not to worry about it.

Nico presently reached over to the side table next to his bed. He grabbed the elixir the nurse had made him and gulped it down quickly with his index finger and thumb pinching his nostrils, not letting himself taste it. It was foul and disgusting; he never thought he had ever tasted something so revolting. The texture was thick, but watery, like a fruit smoothie or something similar. The color was repelling as well; a dark pine green with flecks of brown and purple. The taste was similar to rotten eggs, spoiled milk and unwashed feet rolled in one. It was supposed to help with nerve and muscle damage, but all Nico felt it did was make him throw up. He unconsciously made a face around the bottle and just as he swallowed the last mouthful, Madam Pomfrey bustled in, wiping her hands purposefully on a towel.

"Oh, good," she said. "You're awake."

Nico looked at her and smiled slightly. She was a very talented Healer and she had a nice, if not stern attitude. He respected her. "Good morning, madam," he said.

"Good morning, Nico. Breakfast will be down in a few minutes," the nurse said, walking to the edge of the bed. "For now, let me see your back."

Nico, familiar with the witch's routine, moved carefully out from under the covers and peeled off his shirt before lying on his stomach, arms propping him up.

"Hmm," Madam Pomfrey said, brow creased with displeasure. "The swelling's gone down dramatically, but there are still plenty of bruises." It was true. The area above his tailbone was a hideous dark purple. There were some patches of yellow; half-healed contusions that were tender and weak. The center of the bruise was raised slightly and bumpy, even darker than the rest of the injury. She very lightly touched that area and Nico let out a hiss of pain, his eyes screwed up and his face paler than usual.

She made a clucking noise with her tongue. "Not as healed as I would've like. Where does it hurt the most?"

"Rrr…" Nico struggled to cope with the throbbing ache in his spine as she prodded his back cautiously. "The right… _sss_…" He hissed again, pained. "The right side… near the middle."

"I'm sorry about the pain," Madam Pomfrey said as she handed him a tall glass of water and a small, white pill in a napkin. She watched as he swallowed it before pulling out a circular container from her cart. When she unscrewed the top, Nico could see that it was filled with a smooth, pale cream. "This balm should help with the bruises. I'm going to check for any more muscle damage in a little while but before I –"

But she was cut short by the bang of the infirmary doors. They flew open and bashed into the wall. There was the sound of hard, pain filled sobs, but when Nico turned to see who it was, Madam Pomfrey lightly smacked the back of his head. "Don't move," she ordered firmly. "Stay in that position. I'll be back." The nurse moved away and the demigod nearly growled in frustration. He was stuck like this. Of course, he could move if he really needed to, but that would just get him in trouble with the matron. He buried his face into the mattress and huffed. Of course, no one heard him.

Ten minutes later, he was still there. His arms were beginning to cramp from holding himself up and he could feel his neck muscles beginning to ache. He gritted his teeth when he heard Madam Pomfrey and another pair of feet walking towards him.

"Sit down, dear," said the nurse to the student, her voice gentle. "I'll go get the cooling potion. Don't worry; it's not the end of the world. You're going to live." From her voice, Nico could tell that she was at the right of him, probably sitting the injured person down on the cot next door.

Nico could hear the pupil's whimpers and he realized it was a girl. He was curious but he was more focused on keeping himself up at the moment. He could feel his muscles straining. Taking a breath, he glanced quickly to his right and he felt his eyebrows rise when he saw Pansy Parkinson sitting there, her neck and collarbone heavily inflamed. It looked like she'd been hit with some sort of stinging hex. At least she wasn't crying anymore. She didn't look like she was in pain, so Pomfrey had probably given her a pain reliever. Nico looked away, feeling anger bubble deep in his chest. He didn't like the Slytherin – she was the one who had begun to spread rumors about him around Hogwarts. She would tell anyone who'd listen that Nico was advanced in Dark Magic and was plotting against both the Ministry and Voldemort. Of course, a lot of people believed her and everybody seemed to be wary of Nico now.

"Hey," Pansy voiced suddenly. "What's wrong with your back?"

Nico was angry. Her voice wasn't ashamed or hesitant at all. Didn't she know who he was? What she said about him? But he forced himself to relax despite being outraged and said in a blunt voice "Overpowered _stupefy_." He didn't make any move to continue the conversation.

"Oh." She moved a little, as to get a better view of his face and when she did finally see who she was talking to, her face flushed with hostility. "It's Nico, isn't it?"

"No…" He said sarcastically. "It's Earl. _'It's Nico, right?_'" he mimicked in an annoying, high-pitched voice. "As if you don't know," he spat, glaring at her fiercely. "As if you didn't know my name when you were telling everyone in the entire school that I was _Voldemort's son!" _He turned away from her, disgusted.

Parkinson looked taken aback and stayed quiet when he looked away. But she got angry when she heard him mutter under his breath _"Stupid, shallow little girl…" _

"Just a minute!" she cried, furious. "I'm not shallow and I'm not stupid. If anything, I'm smarter than most of the students in this bloody school. I'm in Slytherin for a reason, you filthy Mudblood!"

"Ha," he barked. "Not shallow, she says! You're as shallow as anything, Parkinson. It doesn't take a rocket scientist to figure out how low you are. And for your information, I'm a half-blood, thank you very much. Get your facts straight. And you talk as if being a muggleborn were a bad thing. It's not. You're all just prejudice idiots, with wild accusations and _no proof_. Gosh, I bet you think all of Gryffindor are stupid, corrupted bullies, even when half of them don't even get involved with other Houses period, you filthy pureblood!"

"Oh, well you know so much, don't you?" Pansy's voice was vicious and fanatical. "It's not as if I care what your opinions on Purebloods are. Everyone knows we're more superior and more powerful than Muggles, so why have their spawn in our world? And you? You're no better than any one of those filthy idiots. You know nothing about me or my standards, so just shut up." She glared at him, breathing hard. Her typically pretty face was steely and blotchy with anger.

"Neither do you. You don't know anything about me or the Muggle world either. You don't know anything about how hard Muggles work to feed their families. You don't know how smart they are, creating all these awesome devices and gadgets to satisfy their imagination. Muggles are ten times better than you are because they're not nearly as angry and as pathetic as you are. You know _nothing_ about them. So stop pretending you do, you _know-it-all_." Panting and irritated, Nico dropped himself onto the mattress, face buried in his pillow.

"Well, you think you're all that, right?" Her voice was so filled with vitriol that if needed it could wipe out a small country in the form of a highly advanced missile. "You're so full of yourself, thinking you're all handsome and smart. But you're not. You're the stupid and slow one and you're a bloody Gryffindor. You're so dense. You're nothing compared to me."

"You're nothing compared to Dumbledore," Nico said, voice slightly muffled because of the pillow. "You're nothing compared to Snape. You don't get it. You're nothing too. You don't matter. The world wouldn't stop if you suddenly turned over and died in a hole. You seem to think that everything revolves around you; but guess what. It doesn't. That's the difference between me and you. You're a conceited bitch who's scared of everything that could endanger you and your precious blood and I'm smart enough to look at Death and not be afraid. So stop being so self-centered and _get a freaking life."_ Nico would be lying if he said he didn't enjoy the shocked expression on Pansy's face right there and then.

As if on cue, Madam Pomfrey decided to march up to them and give Pansy a mushy, dark colored potion.

"Okay, Mr. di Angelo. Let's see your back now."

.

.

.

**One Week Later**

Nico was irritated. Not because of the pain in his back. Not because it was two weeks after the battle. Not because his back was still black-and-blue. Not because of the gaping stares of his classmates. No.

Nico was irritated because of the fact that he – the son of Hades – was stuck.

Stuck. In. A. Wheelchair.

It was laughable. The brutal, ferocious, son of Hell was sitting in the middle of Potions class in a wheelchair. His back was still healing and occasionally it throbbed and he had to stifle a gasp or a yelp. Madam Pomfrey hadn't wanted to risk him tearing any more muscle yet and had – to his eternal resentment – proclaimed him able to attend classes but forbidden to walk until further notice.

It was humiliating.

He felt useless and embarrassed. He had to have everything done for him. He couldn't use his arms to move the wheels of his chair because Madam Pomfrey was afraid the movement of his shoulder blades would cause more damage to his spine. When he changed clothes, he had to be either changed by other people or use magic to dress. And, to his humiliation, he had to have help in the shower. It wasn't that he was ashamed of his body or anything. It was more that he felt vulnerable like that – naked and wet and in front of another male. He could use the bathroom just fine, though. He used his arms to swing himself onto the toilet and go. He used magic to clean himself, as that required bending his back. He felt like a newborn baby, just learning how to do things for himself.

Embarrassment wasn't a new feeling to him. It was just new in this certain environment. He'd never had a reason to be uncomfortable in Hogwarts before.

This was certainly a viable reason to be embarrassed, now.

People liked to make fun about his temporary disability, especially the Slytherins; more specifically, the Slytherin girls. Pansy Parkinson seemed to have harbored a personal vendetta towards him lately, doing everything in her power to make his life miserable. Spreading rumors along the Hogwarts grapevine, trying to trip him in the corridor, making snide comments in the Great Hall; everything she could do to rub his disability in his face, she did. And all the other Slytherin females followed her example, so now he had to deal with all of them plus Parkinson on his back 24/7.

"Not so perfect now, are we di Angelo?" she'd muttered during one Potions class and her group of girlfriends had burst into hysterical, overenthusiastic giggles. Nico had nursed a headache for several hours afterward, to his disappointment.

Nico had coped with the injury as best as he could and to his pride, he was doing pretty well as it was. At his last checkup, Madam Pomfrey had said that if things kept going smoothly, he would be out of the wheelchair in a week or so. He was desperate to get out of the chair, he felt so cramped and mortified. Not to mention, he was bored out of his mind without being able to move or do anything really. It was awful.

"Mr. di Angelo!" Professor Slughorn's jovial voice broke through the demigod's thoughts. "What was Mr. MacMillan's mistake that made his Elixir of Eternal Youth turn this particularly bright shade of pink?"

Nico blinked and looked at the bubbling cauldron in front of him. "He put in the powdered newt eyes before turning the potion counterclockwise." His voice was mechanical and uninterested as he stared at his desk. _The pattern of the grain is rather interesting…_

"Excellent, di Angelo!" Slughorn exclaimed beaming.

Ernie MacMillan and Pansy Parkinson glowered at him.

"Cripple," Parkinson muttered and Nico rolled his eyes. Unlucky for him, Slughorn had given him a seat right next to her and the Slytherin section and he could hear every word she and her House said about him.

"A cripple who can think for himself," he hissed back and she looked insulted.

"I'm trying to listen to the lecture –" she spat but it was right then that Slughorn dismissed the class, smiling cheerfully like he usually did.

As Harry pushed Nico through the desks, he managed one last snide look as he was wheeled out the door. He mouthed 'pureblood' towards her like it was an insult and she sniffed before turning and ignoring him. _Hopefully it'll last until lunch. _

.

.

.

**One Week Later**

"Parvati!" screamed Lavender Brown as she streaked into the Gryffindor Common Room.

Nico had been trying to read in the annoyingly loud living area when the entrance-hole had swung open and Lavender had burst through loudly. He watched, half amused and half annoyed, as the brown-haired girl bounded towards her friend and nearly tackled the girl in her excitement. He turned back to his book, hands clamped tightly over his ears when she began to shriek in that annoying way only teenage girls can achieve.

"Parvati! Parvati, Parvati, Parvati!" she shouted, bouncing up and down on top of the red couch said girl was sitting on, grinning like a lunatic.

"What?" Parvati asked, looking at her friend in confusion.

"You'll never, ever guess in a million years what I just found out!" Lavender gushed, eyes wide and cheeks flushed with enthusiasm.

"Okay, what?"

"You know how in fourth year the school governors and Dumbledore allowed us to have the Yule Ball?" she asked rhetorically, but Parvati Patil nodded anyways. "Well, I just found out… we're going to have another one!"

"We are?" Parvati gasped, looking stunned. "B-but I thought that was just a onetime thing! And we're in the middle of a war!"

"Well…" Lavender trailed off. "It's open invitation for seventh years, but besides them, apparently, only people in the Slug Club get to go." She looked deflated, but then brightened up again. "And their dates."

Nico – who had been ignoring the conversation – suddenly felt two stares penetrating his skin. When he looked up, he started. He had no idea why Lavender Brown and Parvati Patil were looking at him like he was a piece of meat. Raising an eyebrow, he said to them "Yes?"

To his confusion and bemusement, they _giggled_. No one ever _giggled_ at him, Nico di Angelo, let alone two teenage girls. So he put on his most intimidating glare and watched in bewilderment as they fluttered their eyelashes at him and tittered to themselves.

"Well, he's a bit scary," whispered Lavender to her best friend.

"But he's definitely something to look at," Parvati murmured back.

"And he's so _interesting!"_ Lavender snuck another glance at him and blushed deeply.

"But, he's injured. He won't be able to dance or get us punch or anything!"

"Haven't you heard?" The brown-haired girl smirked, eyes lighting up. "He's out of that wheelchair in a couple days. He'll be able to move and stuff in time for the dance, no doubt."

Nico couldn't hear what they were talking about, so he didn't know that he probably should've run.

.

.

.

**Two Days Later**

Nico's back burned with pressure and sweat beaded on his forehead. Drops of water trickled from his wet hair and curved around his jaw, some slipping into his eyes and making them water. He forced air back into his lungs and focused on moving. He rotated his shoulders and slowly stretched his back. Water sloshed inside the tank as he walked on the treadmill.

Nico was in the Infirmary again, inside a huge, glass rectangular container of bright blue, clear water. He was going through the physical therapy session Madam Pomfrey had constructed for him. The water was up to his shoulders and felt beautifully cool against his overheated skin. Breathing was a little hard for him as he worked, but it was wonderful to be able to move again. His feet padded slowly, but dutifully on the conveyor belt beneath him. His soaked hair curled around his ears and dripped onto his collarbone. He braced himself against the handrail in front of him. It was a metal banister built into the glass wall opposite him. If he lost his balance or needed to control his weight, all he had to do was reach out a hand and grab on.

Nico's back gave a rather painful throb and he gritted his teeth, dunking his forehead into the water in front of him. Madam Pomfrey had charmed the tank so Poseidon wouldn't kill him for swimming, but Nico still felt a little uncomfortable in the water. The last time he'd ever been in a pool before was literally several lifetimes ago, when his mother was still alive and his father was never really around. He breathed deeply, to calm himself, and he stretched his back muscles again, bending over and touching his toes, in the process placing his head under the water as well.

"Don't overwork yourself," called Madam Pomfrey from the other side of the hospital wing and Nico barked out a laugh when he jerked out of the water, drops sliding down his face and into his eyes.

"Don't worry," he grunted, taking a couple more steps on the treadmill. "I won't."

"Good. When you get hungry, come out, alright?" she said, turning back to her work.

"Gotcha," Nico managed before taking to just breathing again.

And then the doors to the Infirmary opened again and Professor Snape stepped in from the corridor, holding several vials of potions in a tray. He strode in importantly, saying in his thick, tempered voice "Madam, I have your Pepper-Up Potions ready."

Pomfrey smiled tentatively as she took the wooden tray from the intimidating teacher. "Thank you, Severus," she said before turning on her heel and walking into her office. "I believe Headmaster Dumbledore wishes to see you in ten minutes!" she called back.

"I thought you gave up Potions," said Nico.

Professor Severus Snape did not jump, but he did (to Nico's satisfaction) blink rapidly for a moment before looking at him. "Di Angelo," he muttered, taking in the fact that the black-haired boy was in a large equivalent to a fish tank. "What _are_ you doing?"

"Physical therapy, Professor," Nico said, smirking slightly. "My back can't really heal itself."

"Ah yes," sneered Snape. "Your supposed back injury."

"Supposed?" Nico looked at him innocently. "I promise you, sir, my injury is actually real."

Snape hummed skeptically. "I know Gryffindors, di Angelo. They're all attention seeking, spoiled brats and you aren't any better."

Nico raised an eyebrow. "_All_ Gryffindors, sir? Isn't that kinda stereotypical?"

Snape paused, in consideration. "Not all Gryffindors, I suppose." Then his thoughtful gaze turned hard and flinty again. "But the majority of them are very stupid and selfish and unkind to their classmates."

"Just like the majority of Slytherins are Death Eaters, right?" Nico's voice was sardonic and more than a little offended.

Snape scowled deeply. "Watch yourself, di Angelo, or you just might end up like your precious sister."

"I don't think you have the right to tell me that with all due respect, sir." Nico's demeanor had changed rapidly, an angry snarl twisting his mouth, eyes tight with resentment.

"You don't know what you're dealing with, boy," Snape growled. "I can tell you what I want when I want and you can't do anything about it."

Nico spat a glob of saliva at him before sinking deep into the tank, hair floating in a black halo around his pale, angry face.

The spit landed at Snape's feet and he glared at it, like it was its fault Nico was such a nightmare. When he looked back up at the boy underwater, Nico bared his teeth at his teacher like a cat would to a bad owner.

Snape scowled deeply and wanted to say something derogatory, but he knew that the demigod wouldn't hear him, so he had to be content with just staring the boy down. So he very nearly jumped when he felt a sharp sting on the back of his neck. Madam Pomfrey had skulked up behind him when he was distracted and had slapped him upside the head. "I know you're naturally prickly and not very likeable, but did you really have to go and upset my patients!" she snapped, eyes dark with anger.

"I apologize, Madam Pomfrey," he said in his gravelly voice, tearing his eyes away from the demigod who was making funny, insulting faces from inside the tank.

"Don't apologize to me," she growled at him. "Apologize to Nico!"

He looked at her, horrified. "Of course not. That little monster is faking sick to get out of schoolwork –"

"Are you implying that Nico, a mere student, managed to fool _me_, a Healer who has had years and years of experience, into thinking he has a serious, life-threatening injury?" Her nostrils flared. "I'm _insulted_."

"Madam, he's a demigod," he tried to continue.

"And I am a witch," she snapped back, daring him to argue.

Snape glowered. "He doesn't deserve my apology," he sniffed, switching tactics.

"He deserves it a whole lot more than you do," Pomfrey interrupted, voice malicious.

Nico decided at that moment to surface and breathe greedily, water pouring down his face and making his hair curl with wetness. Pointedly ignoring both professors, he swam slightly as he stretched and began to walk on the treadmill again.

"Nico," purred Madam Pomfrey, giving Snape the stink eye. "Can you come out now? I need to apply the balm to your back."

"Twelve-thirty already?" he asked, referring to the time. "Ok." Nico obliged, climbing gracefully out of the tub and onto the tiled floor, dripping a trail of water wherever he moved. Pomfrey brandished her wand and Nico felt a blast of warm, dry air whirl past him before stopping suddenly. His skin felt clean and comfortably dry now and he smiled with gratitude.

"Lie down," she ordered as she marched over to his bed before levitating the not-yet-healthy boy on top of the covers.

Nico eyed Snape warily after adjusting himself on the mattress. "Are you sure…?" He trailed off when he saw the matron's stony face and he lied down on the cot, head buried in a pillow, resigned.

"Hmm," he heard Madam Pomfrey say. "The bruises are mostly healed, but some of your muscles have swollen up again." As he hadn't been wearing any shirt in the tank, his injuries were bare, exposed and very, very ugly. There were knotted, hard-looking contusions protruding from both sides of his lower spine. It looked ghastly and painful, so Snape couldn't help but wince, once. They were a dark, angry red and could've been mistaken for welts, if they hadn't known better.

Snape's eyebrow rose and he looked at the nurse, who ignored him. "It's not as bad as it looks," she relented after a couple more minutes of Snape's piercing stares.

"It looks?" repeated Nico. "What do you mean, 'not as bad as it looks'?"

"It's awful," Snape deadpanned, voice holding no pity, no anger, no nothing. "It looks like someone beat you with a cane but failed to leave any bruises besides several large, bumpy swellings."

Madam Pomfrey glared at him with hard, merciless eyes, but the Potions Master wasn't disconcerted at all. "It does not," she reassured Nico before applying a rather generous amount of the cream and rubbing it in more gently than she had the last time she had treated him. Nico stiffened under her touch as his muscles tightened and protested, but didn't say anything besides letting out a soft puff of air through his mouth.

"Relax," she scolded. "If you keep doing that, you'll never get any better." He nodded and forced his muscles to loosen up and expand gently.

Snape scoffed in disbelief. "This has happened before?" he whispered to her, eyes not leaving the welted back.

Pomfrey nodded stiffly as she worked. "His muscle tissue is still weak. This…" she gestured at the swellings "…is expected to happen, no matter how horrible it looks. If they hadn't been inflamed, I would've been surprised."

"I'm no Healer, Madam, but this does not look normal. Does he need to be transferred to St. Mongo's?"

The nurse looked at him, affronted. "That's right, Professor, you are not a Healer, which is why you should let me do my job. If he needed to go to St. Mongo's than I would've sent him. As it is, he's improved from his previous state. All he needs is time to heal and recover. That's why he's in a wheelchair and not in his House dormitory."

Snape nodded his head. "I didn't realize. I'm sorry."

Pomfrey huffed. "You shouldn't be apologizing to me, Severus. Who accused who of faking injury to get out of school?" She elbowed her colleague on the arm harshly, face morphing into a mask of innocence when he stared angrily at her.

"Di Angelo," Snape finally ground out loudly, glaring at the ground that glittered with drops of water.

"Yes, Professor?" Nico's voice was carefully neutral, but it vibrated with a large amount of hostility. He had been straining to listen in on the matron's and the professor's conversation, but had only been able to pick up on certain words that might have or might not have been correct.

"I… apologize for any offence I might have caused earlier. It was not my intention to insult you or your _precious_ sister." Every word he spoke fell like a hard ice cube in the now-frigid air.

Nico stirred and began to move, despite Madam Pomfrey's protests and complaints. His face looked genuinely surprised as he looked up at his Professor. He honestly hadn't expected an _apology_ from Professor Snape, of all people. And then his eyes fell on Madam Pomfrey and a look of comprehension lit up his face. "Oh," he muttered before saying louder "Apology accepted, I guess." He swiped the back of his hand against his forehead and pushed his face back into his pillow.

"Thank. You," Snape said slowly, angrily before leaving the hospital wing, robes snapping out behind him.

Pomfrey tsked disapprovingly. "Oh, that man!" she growled.

**Booka here! This chapter was a bit of a filler, but I like this one. It's a little awkward in parts, but I like it. So, did you? If you hated it or if you loved it, please be sure to tell me in a review! Please? Give me something to work on besides telling me to update, even though I appreciate how enthusiastic you guys are. I am completely ignorant about muscle damage and medical stuff, so I don't know what happens if you actually do have muscle and nerve damage on the lower back; all I know is that you could be paralyzed. I would've done more research, but I don't have any Internet. Sorry. **

**Booka: On the 18****th**** of July, I finished this chapter. But I couldn't upload it right away because we didn't have internet. But I just did, so I'm happy now! Yay! **

**Nico: *Rolls eyes* Get a grip. **

**Leo: Oh, cut her some slack. She's just glad she finished the chapter. Let's celebrate! Woot, woot!**

**Nico: Please just review so she can finish the fanfiction and I can go back to the sane hands of Rick Riordan. **

**Leo: *snorts* Rick Riordan. Sane. HA!**

**Booka: Now, in other news:**

**On the 17****th****, I went to the movies with my sister, my cousin Robbie and my dad to see 'The Amazing Spiderman'. It was really, really good, so if there are any Spidey-man fans reading this, I seriously recommend watching it. **

**So, because of a lack of anything else interesting to say… **

**REVIEW!**


	17. Love In The Air

**Hey! So I hope you like this chapter as much as you guys liked the last one! Still in Florida and I'm missing New York. My doggie's at home with no one to talk to but my stoic, dog-sitting uncle. **

**Enjoy the chapter!**

Things have been extremely tense lately between Nico and Professor Snape. The professor ignored Nico pointedly during classes, no longer picking on him for every tiny mistake he made. Of course, Nico didn't mind the change. Now that Snape wasn't being a total jerk to him, maybe the demigod would actually listen when the man was giving a lecture. Of course, that didn't mean he wasn't suspicious of the Death Eater's motives. Was he trying to soften Nico up and lower his guard? Or did he simply not want anything to do with him? Nico would be happy with the latter, thank you very much. He had too much to deal with already without a greasy, Potions Master, DADA Professor on his back.

Apparently, Professor Slughorn was throwing a party in honor of spring in which all the members of the Slug Club and every Seventh year were allowed to attend. Nico didn't really like the fact that it was an invitation-only celebration; it seemed too exclusive and not very fair. He had originally intended not to go at all and was sticking with the plan so far. Of course, it would be easier to accomplish if girls would stop tackling him in the hallway and asking him to it. Whenever this happened, he would always very politely decline and disentangle himself from the girl, explaining that he didn't really want to go.

Of course, everything kind of came to an awkward halt when Ginny Weasley asked him.

He was wheeling himself to lunch, a book cradled in his arm. It was a nice day with a bright blue sky and fluffy clouds, but Nico wasn't fooled. He'd lived in Scotland for several months now and he knew how quickly a beautiful day could become a thunderstorm. He was almost to the dining hall when he felt a small hand wrap around his shoulder. He stopped and turned the chair around with little effort, pleasantly surprised to see the redheaded girl standing there, a grim, determined look on her face. Ginny was a nice girl with a sharp mind and an equally sharp tongue. She was a good companion and she understood him enough to know when he wanted company and when she needed to get the heck away. She was a good listener too, which Nico found was a very nice feature, so he was happy to see her that day.

He shot her a quick but friendly smile before melting back into his usual serious attitude. "Hello, Ginny," he said as he continued to push himself. "What can I do for you?" He usually helped her with her homework or talked to her about the Muggle World. He liked it when they talked.

"Can I ask you something?" She seemed confident and there was a resolute spark in her eyes that Nico didn't know what to make of.

"You just did." She glowered at him and he nodded, smirking. "Sure, what is it?"

Her answer was blunt, to-the-point and rather surprising. "Will you go to me to Slughorn's Spring Ball?"

Nico's wheelchair screeched to a halt and he looked at her, shocked. "What?" he said, eyes wide. She knew that he knew that she was going out with Harry Potter. Why the heck was she asking him when she had a perfectly good boyfriend, who was also one of his closer-but-not-that-close friends?

"Will you go with me to Slughorn's Spring Ball?" she repeated, looking up at him with large brown eyes that were the picture of innocence.

Automatically, his eyes narrowed with suspicion. "Why?" he asked, continuing to roll quickly down the hallway.

She kept up with him, smiling openly now. "Is it a crime for a young girl to ask the boy of her dreams out on a date?" she said, her voice sweet and sugary.

He smirked. "So, you're asking Harry then?" He barked a laugh as he failed to dodge the kick she sent his way.

"Will you shut up?" she hissed at him, eyes flickering back and forth around the corridor.

"Oh, Ginny," he sighed and reached up to ruffle her hair affectionately. "You need to work on your lying skills."

She pouted. "I asked you a serious question!" she defended, sulking.

"Listen, honey," he continued, smiling slightly. "We both know you only want to go with me because you and Harry are in a fight and you're mad as hell at him. But this isn't the mature way to handle your anger. Besides, I don't feel like being manipulated into one of your elaborate schemes just to get back at one of my closer-but-not-that-close friends."

"You're no fun," she grumbled, kicking at the ground. "Why can't you be a bad friend for once and just help me?"

He shook his head. "Ginny, sweetie, I don't know if you noticed, but I don't have that many friends or acquaintances or companions or whatever the hell you want to call them. I can't risk what I already have. Sorry."

Ginny flushed red and when she did, her whole face did. The tips of her ears went red too. "No, I'm the one who should apologize. I forget sometimes how…" She searched for a word that wouldn't bring offence "…antisocial you are sometimes. You just seem so open with me and the rest of us."

Nico shrugged. "S'not your fault."

Ginny looked at her hands as they walked, side by side. "I shouldn't have asked anyways." She sighed and Nico waited patiently for her to start talking. "It's just, we've never really fought before and I'm not sure how I should handle it."

"How have you been dealing before asking your guy-friend to a date?"

Ginny shrugged. "I've kinda been ignoring him. The last time he tried to speak to me, I ran away."

"Oh, Ginny. He might've been trying to apologize."

She perked up and looked at him. "Really?" Her voice was so filled with hope, he had to smile.

"Yeah. Us guys don't like to fight with our girlfriends anymore than girls like to fight with their boyfriends."

"Hmm. That makes sense." Her brow was furrowed and she looked deep in thought.

He grinned at her. "Well, what did you expect? I'm awesome."

She chuckled and looked at him, smiling slightly. She opened her mouth and began to speak. Her question startled him. "So why aren't you going to the dance?"

Nico frowned. "Where'd you here that?" He looked at her.

Ginny snorted. "Are you kidding me? All the girls in all the Houses are talking about you and how _unreachable_ you are." She rolled her eyes. "I'm sorry, Nico, but if I have to listen one more time to Violet Donatello droning on and on about how well-defined your abs are, I swear I will punch someone in the stomach."

Nico's face turned an uncharacteristic shade of red and he stared at his shoes. "You're serious?" he said.

"Lavender Brown and Parvati Patil are in a quarrel about who'll get to ask you out," she continued. "I think they're considering giving you love potions."

His face twisted and he looked disgusted. "Oh… Christ," he said. He would've said Zeus or Hades, but Ginny would've asked about it and he didn't feel like blowing his cover just yet.

Ginny looked curious. "That's a Muggle god, right?"

He nodded and said "He's not the only one, though." There was a pleased rumble of thunder from outside even though there weren't any clouds.

"But seriously Nico…" She hesitated before asking "Are you… gay?"

Nico couldn't help it. He burst out laughing. At first, Ginny nervously began to chuckle with him but after a couple of minutes of nonstop laughing, she began to get angry. Finally, she resorted to slapping him over the head with her textbook. "It's not funny!" she yelled, glaring when he just kept laughing.

"Oh, gods," he chuckled, wiping a tear from his eye. "I'm sorry Ginny, but I…" He took a deep breath of air, shaking his head in disbelief. "Ginny, I assure you, I am 100% heterosexual."

Ginny pouted, her bottom lip jutting out. "Well, I'm sorry I didn't know that," she said defensively.

Nico's face drained of amusement and he asked her, dead serious "You really thought I was gay?" He sounded offended.

She shrugged. "Well, I've never seen you with a girl and you've never really gone out of your way to say, 'oh, she's so hot'. You don't really seem affected by all the pretty girls falling over you either. So, I wasn't sure." Then she smiled wryly. "Well, I guess now I can reassure the female population of Hogwarts that you're completely and irrevocably straight."

By now, they had reached the Grand Hall. Ginny and Nico moved over to the Gryffindor table, still talking, Nico scowling. With his wheelchair, the seating was a little awkward, so he had to resign himself to sitting next to his friends in the mobile seat, his plate in his lap. He was satisfied to see Ginny and Harry cuddling on the bench, his arm wrapped around her shoulders. Ron was mimicking gagging in his lunch and Hermione was smacking his arm. "I think it's sweet!" Nico heard her say and he snickered into his hand.

"You better thank me," he said to Harry, seriously. "I'm the one who convinced her to start talking to you again."

Harry laughed and nodded, burying his nose in Ginny's hair. "Thanks," he said.

"What? No trophy?" Nico said to Hermione, feigning disappointment and she laughed.

He bit into his chicken with a pleased smirk but stilled when he felt two long arms wrap around his chest from behind him. An uncomfortably warm finger stroked the back of his neck and he struggled to turn around, eyes widening when he felt hot breath on his ear.

"Hey, babe," cooed a voice close to his collar. "How's it going?"

He grimaced and pried the arms from his person, turning to face the eager face of Lavender Brown.

He jumped when she perched on his lap, smiling widely at him. "Er, Lavender I would really appreciate it if you could back up a bit," he said through gritted teeth.

"Why?" she purred, flapping her eyelashes flirtatiously. "Do I make you… _uncomfortable_?"

He gave her a _'duh' _look. "Yes, as a matter of fact you do."

Lavender pouted and snuggled closer, making her eyes go wide and innocent. "Can't I stay? _Pwease?"_

He shook his head and attempted to push her off gently but she just grabbed him tighter.

"Lavender," Ron said through a tense jaw. "Get off of him."

Lavender looked at him with contemptuous eyes. "Last time I checked you're not the boss of me, Weasley."

He scowled at her. "I just think it's disgusting. How desperate are you to get a date that you'd actually ask out _Nico di Angelo?"_

Nico looked at him, shocked. "Hey!"

"No offence," Ron offered, looking sheepish. He turned back to the brown-haired girl. "But it's just really gross, how you're doing this in public."

Lavender sneered. "You didn't think it was gross when it was you holding me in _public_."

"Yeah, well, I'm just a big hypocrite then, aren't I?"

"Yes, you are," Harry muttered under his breath and Ginny snickered, though she stopped at Hermione's expression.

"Admit it!" Ron snapped. "You're just doing this to get me jealous!"

"Is it that hard to believe someone actually likes me?" Nico asked, incredulous.

"Well, considering you're chaste beyond belief – for a teenage boy, anyways – yes, yes it is," Ginny said helpfully.

"You're such a jerk!" Lavender shouted, tears gathering in the corner of her eyes. "You're the one who dumped me, remember! It's not as if I wanted us to break up."

"I don't even remember why we were together," Ron hissed. "You were always falling all over other boys, even when I was your boyfriend."

"Ha!" barked his former girlfriend. "You're the one who chose that cow Granger over me! It's entirely your fault, Ronald, not mine!"

Hermione bristled, about to say something, but Ron didn't give her a chance. "I did no such thing!" He glared at Lavender. "We're not dating and we never will!"

Hermione's expression froze in anger and she stared long and hard at Ron, who didn't notice.

"Oh, please," scoffed Lavender. "Everyone knows you have feelings for each other! It's obvious in the way you look and argue!"

"No, it's not! We fight everyday! Half of the time we're together we're not talking to each other because we're too angry to think straight. It's awful and being a couple would just make it worse," Ron looked right at Lavender angrily. "It wouldn't work."

Hermione blinked rapidly for a few minutes before growing angry. "He's right," Hermione interrupted her voice low and furious. "It wouldn't." She stood sharply and stomped out of the Great Hall, not even looking at Ron.

Harry glared at his best friend, who didn't notice as he was too preoccupied with Lavender.

Nico sighed and leaned back, knowing that it would be a while before the girl on his lap would be moving anywhere anytime soon. "Guys, I know you two have a lot of problems to work out and stuff, but I'd really appreciate it if you could deck it out somewhere else and not on _my freaking lap!"_

Lavender sniffled and climbed off of Nico. "See what you've done!" she yelled at Ron. "You scared off my date!"

Nico looked at her, bewildered. "Your date? Since when did I agree to that?"

Lavender burst into tears and stormed away, wailing loudly.

"Well, _crap_," Ginny said.

"I concur with that statement," Nico said.

"You're an idiot, Ron," the redheaded girl intoned calmly as she stood up and wiped her greasy hands on a napkin. "You just completely ignored Hermione and made Lavender cry!"

Ron's eyes widened as he looked up at his younger sister. "Hey, it was Nico who made Lavender cry, not me."

"You're still an idiot," agreed Harry as he walked with Ginny out of the dining hall, not looking back.

"Seriously, what did I do?" exclaimed Ron. "The only thing I was trying to do was to get back with Lavender!"

Nico shook his head. "A complete idiot," he voiced to himself and he began to wheel away with an expression of disappointment. "If you wanted to get back with Lavender then that was not the way to go, dude. And before you do that you really should sort out what you have with Hermione, because right now you're just giving her mixed signals." Then he stopped right when he reached the door of the Great Hall. "And the only reason Lavender wants to go out with me is because I'm allowed to go to Slughorn's Spring Ball. It's not just because of my charming attitude and superb looks." His voice was decisively sarcastic and he gave Ron one last withering look before pushing himself into the corridor and out of sight.

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.

Romilda Vane squared her shoulders determinedly outside the library doors. This was it. Everything she had worked towards for the past few weeks was behind that door. She couldn't afford to mess this up. Everything had to be absolutely perfect in order for her to succeed. She tossed her thick mane of dark brown hair onto her back and flashed a sugary smile into her pocket-mirror before snapping the device shut and shoving it back into her satchel. Yes, everything would be perfect. He wouldn't say no. Who could say no to Romilda Vane, the most beautiful witch in fourth year?

Striding into the library, the fourth year's eyes were automatically drawn to him, sitting in a corner of the room. The reading light behind him made him look otherworldly, shining onto him in a halo of golden, dusty light. His pale skin shown pure white in the dim lighting and Romilda sighed longingly to herself, cupping her chin in her palm. He was so perfect, it was heartbreaking. Thick strands of glossy black hair fell into his eyes and as she watched, he reached up with a slender hand to push those immaculate locks back, dark eyes never leaving his book.

Nico di Angelo. The ideal boyfriend.

Too bad he rejected every girl that asked him out.

_But you're not every girl, are you Romilda? _She took a deep, steadying breath. She calmed her racing heart and combed her fingers through her hair nervously. _He'll say yes, don't worry. He has to. You're popular and pretty and smart. What more could a boy want?_

Just as the crushing teenage girl was about to approach him, a blur of fluffy brown hair whizzed past her and stopped in front of Nico, her – _Romilda's, _not anyone else's – prey. It was Hermione Granger, the buck-toothed know-it-all. Her hair was frizzy and in disarray. Her robe had been tossed on hurriedly that morning and her face was white with anger. Romilda smirked. This was her big chance! When Hermione started bugging her beau, she'd swoop in and save him. He'd be so grateful that he'd ask her to the dance on the spot!

"I can't believe him!" Romilda heard Hermione whine loudly and saw her slam a book on the desk near Nico.

To her astonishment, Nico _chuckled_. It was a deep, sultry sound and it had Romilda swooning. "What?" he said in his silky voice as he closed his book to look up at the girl. "What did Ron do this time?"

Hermione grunted. "I was trying to ask him out to Slughorn's dance, but you know what happened? He interrupted me. And you know what he said? He asked me and I quote – _'do you think I should ask Lavender out to the ball or what?'"_

Nico snorted and he shook his head. "Typical Ron," he commented. "You shouldn't worry about him too much. His feelings for Lavender aren't even real; it's pure infatuation."

"But he thinks they're real," Hermione said sullenly. "That's all that matters and when he asks her out, I'll have to deal with them snogging all the time. Again."

Nico smiled – _he actually smiled! _Romilda practically died – sympathetically. "I understand," he sighed. "I remember my first crush."

She looked at him, surprised. "_You_ had a _crush_?" she said incredulously.

He frowned at her, looking put out. "Why does suddenly everyone think I'm asexual?" he asked, exasperated.

She shrugged. "No offence, Nico, but you're rather unresponsive around girls; _pretty_ girls and ones that are throwing themselves at your feet."

"So?" he said, rolling his eyes. "Just because I'm not some hormonal dog, everyone assumes I have no interest whatsoever in girls?" He snorted. "You should've seen Seamus's face when I said that I thought Hannah Abbot was sweet."

Hermione perched sullenly on the armchair next to Nico's wheelchair. "If Lavender and Ron get back together again, I swear I will kill myself," she said, staring at her hands dejectedly.

He laughed. "I'll be happy to arrange your funeral, don't worry," he said, his voice dripping with an irony that Romilda couldn't understand. "Listen, if you're so bummed about Ron going to the dance with Lavender, than why don't you just go with someone else? You never know, it might just make him _jealous_." He nudged her with his elbow and Romilda fumed with envy.

Hermione smirked. "Ron always was the jealous type," she mused.

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.

"Okay, now bend a little more for me," Madam Pomfrey instructed, kneading her palms into the base of Nico's spine.

Nico grunted and obliged. He felt his damp hair stick to his forehead and he forced his nose to his knees, wincing when he felt a responding throb in his back. His fingers were splayed against the ground and he was bending over in the Infirmary, waiting for the nurse to make her diagnosis.

"Well, you're doing a lot better," she thought aloud as she slid her hand up his spine to check for any breaks or twists in the bone. "There isn't any swelling or bruises at all. And you can walk normally without much pain, yes?"

Nico nodded and remembered that she couldn't really see his head from where she was standing. "Yes, ma'am." He subtly crossed his fingers and waited, hopefully.

She seemed to think, drumming her fingers on his former-wound. "I suppose you don't need the wheelchair anymore."

Nico would've fist-pumped but he was still doubled over, so he settled for a hissed _"Yes…!"_

"You can straighten up, now," the medi-witch said and he righted himself, grinning.

"Thanks, madam," he said, laughing. "I'll be careful, I promise."

Madam Pomfrey rolled her eyes. "You better be," she said, shaking her index finger at him. "Otherwise your spine will pay for it."

"I still don't get why we couldn't use Ambrosia or Nectar on me," he said wryly. "It would've been faster and a lot less disgusting." He shot a withering glance at the potion that sat on the counter next to him.

Madam Pomfrey's face became pinched with disapproval. "Nectar," she sniffed. "Too much of a fatality risk. It kills just as much as it heals. Godly drink. Ha!"

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"No."

"Please?" Hermione yelped suddenly as she was jostled around in the crowd. The hallways were brutal, the students swarming and flooding into the corridors, knocking into her shoulders and elbowing her ribs. The 'current' was so strong Hermione was nearly ripped from Nico's side and she struggled to stand upright. To her frustration, Nico didn't look like he was having any trouble at all. They were on their way to Potions. _Yippee._

Nico looked at her. "No. I told you already. It's not happening."

"Come on, Nico," Hermione grabbed his arm and scowled at the fifth year boy that nearly ran her over. "Please? I can't do this without you."

"That's the point. Hermione, I was only joking in the library. I didn't think you'd actually _consider_ it." He frowned at her before pulling her through the group of pupils cluttering the passage. "It's mean and it's immature. You know that."

Hermione sighed. "He's playing with my feelings, Nico. I just want him to feel the same."

"Revenge is not the answer," he said sagely. "Violence is much more affective."

"Oh, ha, ha," Hermione muttered derisively. "I know you don't want to, but please?"

He sighed as he dragged her down the hallway. "What's in it for me?" he said finally.

Hermione squealed happily and hugged his arm, as it was the closest part of him to her. "Thank you!" she exclaimed.

"I didn't say I'd do it," Nico intoned. "I just asked what I'd get out of it; hypothetically speaking."

"The satisfaction of helping a friend?" Hermione offered hopefully.

He looked at her.

"Um… Five minutes with the Marauders' Map?"

Nico's smile was terrifying and he grabbed her hand, pumping it vigorously in an enthusiastic handshake. "Congrats. You've got yourself a date to Slughorn's ball."

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.

"You're WHAT?" screeched Ron, standing up so fast his chair was knocked over, clattering loudly and silencing the entire House. "You… and _him_… dating…? WHAT?"

Hermione ignored his outburst and focused on Harry. His eyebrow was raised and he was exchanging a look with Ginny. He knew.

"Congratulations," he said, smirking as Ginny shook with laughter, her face pressed into a throw pillow from one of the Common Room couches.

"I did not see that one coming," said Neville, blinking in shock and shaking his head.

"But… but, you can't date him!" spluttered Ron.

"And why not?" asked Nico, looking convincingly offended as he took Hermione's hand and intertwined their fingers.

"Yes, why not, Ronald?" Hermione queried coolly, leaning casually into the demigod's touch and reveling in Ron's outrage.

"Because… because…" For the first time in the redhead's life, he was at a loss for words. "You're completely _wrong_ for each other!"

"Glad to see your friends are so supportive," Nico muttered.

"See! See!" Ron pointed at Nico, who scowled at him. "He's all sarcastic and pessimistic. And you're so happy and light. It's too… too…"

"Contradictory?" offered Dean.

Ron nodded. "Yeah."

"Happy and light?" Hermione quirked an eyebrow. "When did I leave that impression?" she asked no one in particular.

Nico chuckled darkly.

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"It's completely insane!" Ron spat as he paced around the boys' dormitory. "They're completely insane! How could they do this?"

"I don't think it's that hard to understand," Harry said from where he was lying on his bed. He had the Marauders' Map in one hand and the Half-Blood Prince's textbook in the other. He looked at Ron with large, rational, green eyes. "He's a boy. She's a girl. They're around the same age. They've got a lot in common. What's not to understand?"

"Everything!" spluttered Ron. "What could they possibly have in common? A couple months ago they were at each other's throats and now they're… they're…"

"Snogging in the hallway?" offered Harry. At Ron's expression, he said "Oh, c'mon. It's kinda obvious that they like each other. They both like Muggle Literature and History. They seem content together and they're not fighting anymore."

"Oh, not you too!" Ron looked at him disgustedly. "How can you possibly approve of Hermione dating that… that _rat?"_

"Ron, if that _rat_ – also known as Nico, by the way – makes her happy, then who am I to complain? If I had _feelings_ for her, then yeah, I'd be upset, but I don't, so I'm _happy_ for her." Harry watched as his subtle probe penetrated his best friend's skull.

His brown eyes went large and his skin went pale, making his freckles stand out. "Harry…" he began. "D'you think it'd be weird if I… if I happened to have…"

"Yes?" Harry prodded. "Have what Ron?"

"…nothing. Just a thought I had," he said as he collapsed into a chair, staring at his hands.

"You know," the-Boy-Who-Lived began carefully "Nico and Hermione dating isn't nearly as weird as you and Lavender Brown going out. What're you so worked up about?"

"Worked up? I'm not worked up at all."

"Mmhmm," Neville hummed skeptically from the other side of the room. "Sure you're not."

"Because you _always_ go on a rampage when one of your best friends starts dating," Seamus said sarcastically.

"You know, I don't recall hearing you rant when Harry started dating your sister." Dean decided to put in his two Knuts, looking thoughtful.

The conversation was cut short, however, when the door to the bedroom opened slowly and Nico walked in, a believably dreamy look in his eye. He practically floated across the floor to his bed, where he dropped onto the mattress without his usual grace. There, he sighed mistily, loud enough for all the occupants of the room to hear.

Dean snickered at Ron's look of outrage.

"Ooh," crooned Seamus, fluttering his eyelashes mockingly. "Someone's in _luuuuv_!"

Nico didn't say anything, nor did he move to get up, but he did raise his hand to flip the bird.

Seamus grinned.

Ron stood and pointedly ignored Nico as he crawled into his own bed, a jealous glint in his eye when he glanced at the demigod. He threw the curtains shut with a final glare at Nico. Then, a loud string of profanities were muttered through the fabric and were cut short when Harry threw one of the couch pillows at where he thought Ron's head was.

"I'm going to have nightmares tonight," Neville said straight-faced and Dean had to shove his fist into his mouth to keep from laughing.

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"Hermione. I need to talk to you."

Immediately, the crowded Common Room fell silent and watched with eager eyes as Ron approached where Hermione and Nico were cuddled on the couch. Harry and Ginny were holding hands tightly and Katie Bell bit the inside of her cheek to keep from squealing. Angelina Johnson was whispering excitedly to Parvati Patil, who was sitting next to a fuming Lavender Brown. The first years were hiding in the back, wondering who was going to blow up who in the fight that was sure to follow. So far, everyone was betting on Nico.

Hermione turned to face the nervous boy, her face the picture of repose. "Yes, Ron?" she asked calmly, but her doe-brown eyes held a spark of anticipation.

"I…" He paused, trying to collect his words. "I'm sorry for what I said yesterday, Hermione. I shouldn't have said that to you and Nico. I had no right."

"And?" Hermione probed.

"I shouldn't have told you what to do. But I couldn't help myself, 'Mione." He smiled sheepishly. "It's just… ever since first year, you've been one of my closest friends. You were always so brilliant in class and you're the smartest witch I've ever known. You're a really good friend. But lately, I've been thinking of you as _more_ than just a best friend."

Her cheeks flushed with heat and when she spoke, her voice was breathless. "More than a friend, Ron?"

"Yeah." He smiled at her. "You're so much more than a friend. You're like my…" He hesitated and made a split-second decision with himself. "…my sister."

Automatically, a tension that hadn't been in the room before switched on. It was icy and burning and everyone gaped at Ron. Hermione's mouth dropped and her eyes widened. Harry slapped his own forehead and Ginny looked outraged. Nico summed up the entire situation with a deadly-serious "Well, _crap_." Dean had his head in his hands and Seamus was cursing under his breath.

"Your sister," said Hermione slowly and her grip tightened around Nico's hand.

"Yeah," Ron whispered and he smiled sadly at her. "My sister."

Hermione took a deep breath and Nico closed his eyes as he felt her stand up and take a step towards her redheaded friend.

Tears were welling up in her eyes. She looked up at Ron, as he was so much taller than her. "I hate you Ronald Weasley!" she yelled, hot tears streaming down her face and she pushed past the stunned boy, bolting out of the room and into the hallway, sobbing.

"You're an idiot," Nico said as he calmly stood up and ran after her, casting a Hades-Worthy-Death-Glare at Ron before he disappeared out of the living area.

There was a loud moment of silence in which Ron stared, stunned, at where Hermione had been before she had stormed out.

"What did I do?"

…

**Booka: Aw, poor, poor Ronnie. Hands up for anyone who feels sorry for him. **

**Nico: I think he should just man-up and just tell Hermione how he feels, the idiot. **

**Leo: Oh, my Gawd! You are **_**so**_** insensitive! – Since when do I talk like that?**

**Booka: Since I started using you in my writing. Deal with it.**

**Leo: Well, change that!**

**Booka: 'Kay. *starts to type***

**Leo: Yo, thanks, yo, I tawk lika gangsta now! I got da gung-ho attitooood and da wiiickeeed haiiir… – Wait a second! I did not agree to that!**

**Nico: Change him back. **

**Booka: Fine *pouts***

**Leo: Okay, guys, you should review now to make Booka less moody and less likely to change me talkin' style. Okay? Thanks. **

**REVIEW. **


	18. Slughorn's Stupendous Spring Ball

_Slughorn's Stupendous Spring Ball (Part 1)_

…

**Booka: Still in Florida. Sleepy. Irritated. All in all, I could be doing better. But all your reviews have made my day, so I thank you all with hugs and cookies. Kisses are overrated. **

**On a different note, it has come to my attention that some of you believe that this is a Hermione/Nico pairing. Let me reassure you that that is not the case. Nico is simply pretending to be Hermione's girlfriend in order to get Ron to realize his true feelings. **

**Booka: *Stares* Wow. *Blinks, rubs eyes* Nearly 300 reviews. Thanks guys. **

Nico knew this was a bad idea from the start. Don't ask him how he knew; he just understood that wherever this plan of Hermione's was going, it was going to crash and burn. Badly. He had a hard seed of dread blooming inside of his stomach. He'd had this feeling before: prior to a battle with a deadly drakon for one. Now, he was about to take his closer-but-not-that-close friend's crush to the biggest dating event of the year. Somehow, he felt he'd rather go up against the drakon.

Hermione had been ignoring Ron for about two days now and she didn't seem fit to give in anytime soon. Ron had tried to talk to her, but it had only ended with Hermione practically hexing him into next week. Luckily, nothing permanent had befallen the redhead and all it took was a trip to the Infirmary to help with his condition. In the time that Ron had been in the hospital wing, Hermione had badgered Nico into going to the dance, despite his protests.

So now, the fearsome son of Hell was sitting in the bathroom in front of the mirror, carefully ruffling his hair in neat waves around his narrow face. It was around eight o' clock in the evening and the party would undoubtedly run into early morning. Nico was dressed in long, thin black robes with silvery thread embroidered on the sleeves and hem. He knew that most of the Muggleborns of the school were going to dress in gowns and suits and he'd been tempted to join them, but he didn't want to stand out too much. He had to admit, though, that the wizard robes made him look rather dashing. He smirked at the mirror and laughed to himself. Now he sounded all cocky and arrogant. He tossed the comb onto the counter and brushed his teeth quickly one more time before hearing vigorous knocking on the door. Spitting and wiping his mouth with a towel, he opened the bathroom door to look at a frazzled Harry, who had a frightened expression on his face. His robes were a dark pine-green that looked practically black in the lighting and he had thrown away his glasses for the evening, revealing his impossibly green eyes. He looked rather good except for his hair. It was just as knotted and as tangled as ever.

Harry looked at him. "Done yet? Can we go down now?"

Nico snorted. "With your hair like that? I don't think so."

The-Boy-Who-Lived frowned. "What's wrong with my hair?"

"It's a rat's nest, that's what." Nico reached out and grabbed him before dragging the boy into the bathroom. "Do you really want Ginny to see you like that?" he asked at Harry's protests. Automatically, the Chosen One shut up and stilled obediently. "Good," Nico said, pleased. "Now, stay still. This will hurt a lot."

The comb – a thin, black thing with closely placed teeth – went up and yanked through several small knots in the shaggy black hair. Harry yelped loudly and tried to struggle away but Nico simply pushed him back to the chair in front of the mirror and pressed a finger to Harry's neck. All feeling immediately left his limbs and his arms and legs went limp. Tingles spread throughout his body; he was paralyzed, but this was different than being hit with the body-bind spell.

"What did you do?" Harry gasped, eyes wide.

"Pressure point," Nico said apathetically before trying to rake the comb through a particularly large snarl. "You won't be able to move for a little while."

"_Ow!"_ Harry cried as his body was dragged up with his hair. "That hurts!"

"Sorry," Nico said before glaring at Harry's locks. "I swear, that thing's alive."

"Amen to that," grumbled the Boy-Who-Lived before shrieking in pain again. There was a loud, cracking noise and Harry stilled, eyes wide. Nico had tried to tug the comb out of his tresses and the stupid thing had broken.

"Well," he said, staring at the jagged piece of plastic that was left in his hands. "That didn't work."

"_No_," Harry said sarcastically, trying to glare at the son of Hades, but he was unable to turn around. "I didn't notice."

"Oh, for God's sake," Nico took out his wand and pointed it at Harry's head. He muttered something under his breath and Harry gulped before feeling a tingling needles-and-pins type sensation erupt all over his head. Suddenly, his scalp felt remarkably lighter. A part of broken plastic clattered onto the floor.

"Oh," Nico said. "There's the other half of the comb."

"What did you do?" Harry gaped at himself in the mirror. All the tangles had disappeared and had magically folded into his skull. Now, he had a head full of dark, messy spikes. They were loose and untidy, not exactly_ spiky_, per se, but rather thick and disorganized in dense tufts. It fell softly around his face and piled behind his ears. It didn't look bad, but he hadn't exactly expected his hair to be spiky, of all things. Then again, he had never really tried to comb it out before either. It was just too painful to even think about.

"Am I a genius or what?" Nico asked, with a look of mock smugness.

"I don't know," Harry was still staring in disbelief at his reflection. "It doesn't look _horrible_."

"Was that supposed to be a thank you?" The demigod looked disappointed.

"I…" Harry couldn't get anything out.

"Never mind," Nico cut him off. "Let's just get this torture over with." He leaned over Harry and pressed his thumb into the shorter boy's shoulder. Automatically, sensation returned to his body and he could move again. He tested his mobility by jiggling his feet and wiggling his fingers. When they moved, he turned to Nico.

"Next time," he said "Just tell me to stay still, would you?" He glared fiercely at Nico, but the demigod looked unfazed.

"As if they will be a next time," Nico snorted.

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Hermione paced furiously in the Common Room. Her dark blue dress swished along the floor, brushing against her ankles. Her normally frizzy hair had been curled and styled, so it fell neatly to her shoulders in tidy, short ringlets. Her usually plain face was accentuated with pink lip gloss and powdered blush. She honestly looked rather attractive, her dress not too tight, but not baggy either. She was nervous. _What if Ron doesn't think I'm pretty enough? What if Nico decides not to come? What if, what if, what if…?_

Okay, she was overreacting. She more often than not never overreacted; she was the logical one, the one who saw the better side of a situation. But this was a whole new situation that she'd never really been in before. She couldn't predict Ron's reactions if they were positive and she didn't _want_ to predict Ron's reactions if they were negative. It was all very frustrating because she didn't know what was coming.

She felt a small hand on her shoulder and she stopped pacing for a second and turned to see Ginny Weasley standing there with a sympathetic smile on her face.

"Calm down," the fifth year girl said. "You're making me dizzy, pacing like that."

"Sorry," Hermione muttered as she played with the bracelet on her wrist. "Just a bit nervous, is all."

"You don't need to be." At Hermione's skeptical expression, Ginny said soothingly "Everything's going to be fine." Then, she grinned. "I like your dress."

"Thanks," Hermione breathed a sigh of relief and she stood still as she took in the girl in front of her. "Oh, Ginny," she said. "You look beautiful!"

Ginny's bright red hair was pulled into a pretty bun with two long curls hanging in front of her deep brown eyes. Her dress robes were flowy and white with long, lacy sleeves. Her feet were covered with the floor length gown. Her makeup was minimal but her lips were painted crimson while her eyes were rimmed with black.

"Thanks," she said, grinning. "You do too."

Hermione waved away the compliment. "Let's just hope Ron thinks so."

Ginny frowned and was about to reply when the thud of feet on the dormitory steps interrupted her. When they looked up, Nico and Harry were beaming at them from the staircase. They both looked devilishly handsome and Hermione smiled with approval as she took in Nico's immaculate robes and looks. His clothes weren't too flashy or too understated; they were charming, just like the demigod inside them. As Harry and Ginny reunited with excitement and caring gestures and kisses, Nico glided to where Hermione stood with a smirk.

"Good evening, my fair lady," he said silkily with a bow. "I hope you are looking forward to the evening as much as I am." He took her hand and kissed her knuckles, smiling charmingly against her hand.

She grunted, unaffected and he laughed.

"Oh, come on," he straightened up and nudged her arm carelessly. "Lighten up. Don't be such a sourpuss."

She looked at him, incredulous. "You think _I'm_ the sourpuss? You're the biggest cynic of them all and you're telling me to lighten up!"

He frowned. "Yes. Yes, I am. And I may be a cynic, but I'm also a human being who gets bored easy. So, stop worrying about Ron and at least pretend you're going to have a good time with me tonight because there's no way I'm listening to you talk about him for one more minute. You're the one who suckered me into going with you, so you're not going to complain and you're not going to whine the whole damn time away. This is a night you're going to remember for the rest of your life so you might as well enjoy it, yeah?"

She just looked at him for a moment before her stiff shoulders sagged slightly and she nodded. "Fine," she conceded before poking him in the ribs playfully. "You better be good to me this evening, Mr. di Angelo." Her voice was good-humoredly stern and she smiled up at him. "I expect you to get me punch, order dinner for me; the whole courting thing."

Nico rolled his eyes. "Sure, sure. Let's just get this over with."

So, Hermione took the arm that he offered and they waltzed out of the Common Room all the way to the Great Hall, ignoring the stares that followed them as they did.

"Oh, one more thing," Hermione said when they reached the doors to the dining hall.

"What?" Nico asked as the girl pulled out her wand and tapped her own head. To Nico's astonishment, a crown of pink petunias and dark green leaves blossomed on her head, intertwining with her brown curls.

"Now you," she said.

"Whoa, whoa," he threw up his hands, edging away from her. "That's cool and all, but I think I'm good."

Hermione rolled her eyes at him. "Don't be such a killjoy," she said. "It's a pureblood tradition that Slughorn asked everyone to follow. Wizards do this on the spring equinox to celebrate the coming of springtime. Males do it too, so stop whining and stand still." She reached up and rapped her wand against his forehead. He felt a comfortable heat spread against his scalp, creeping a full circle before cooling drastically and then disappearing altogether. A heavy wreath of snow-white roses appeared and weaved delicately into his longish hair, contrasting greatly against the raven-black tresses.

He wrinkled his nose distastefully. "That feels weird."

Hermione shrugged. "A little bit, I guess," she said. She looked at the doors in front of them and grabbed his hand firmly. "You look nice, though," she murmured.

"Nervous?" Nico asked, not unkindly.

"Terrified," she replied before trying to smile and ending up with a grimace. "Let's just go in and get this over with."

"That's the spirit," Nico said sardonically and he was rewarded with a snicker from her.

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The dining room had been completely transformed. The long, thin House benches that Nico had become familiar with had vanished and in their place were small, circular tables covered with white, flower-patterned tablecloths and fancy silverware. All of the tables were placed in a perfect circle around the middle of the floor-space. White plates and bowls with glossy wine glasses were set up on the tables. The floating candles that hovered above head were pale blue and pink instead of their normal parchment-yellow. The light milky marble stone of the floor had rosy, delicate flower petals covering them and when Nico breathed a thin sweet scent filled his lungs. Full flowers – roses, lilies, hydrangeas, orchids – floated through the air in a slow, magical current before drifting gracefully to the ground and flying back into the air when they touched the floor. A group of wizards with odd looking instruments that Nico had never seen before were in the corner of the room, playing a sweeping song that filled the room with a bouncy sort of energy. There were several people there already, dressed in different colored robes or Muggle dress-wear. It looked very nice, Nico admitted to himself. Everyone was talking excitedly and there were a couple pureblood students teaching the half-bloods and the Muggleborns a traditional wizard dance. From what Nico could see, it seemed to contain a lot of twirling and quick, complicated steps that looked rather intimidating.

Glancing to his right, Nico was happy to see that Hermione was looking around with wide, awe-filled eyes.

"Wow," she said to him, her voice soft. "This is beautiful."

"Hermione!" called a voice from behind them and they both turned around to see Hannah Abbot and Ernie MacMillan rushing towards them from the dance floor. Hannah looked very pretty in her honey-gold dress robes and plaited blonde hair. Ernie, wearing dark blue robes, looked very tired from dancing with sweat shining on his forehead.

"Oh, Merlin, Hermione you need to try this dance," Hannah gushed, smiling widely. "It's so much fun."

"It's quite hard, actually," corrected Ernie, breathing slightly uneven. "Not my idea of fun." When his eyes landed on Nico, they turned cool. "Oh, di Angelo. I didn't know you'd be here tonight."

Nico smiled, ignoring his hostile tone. "Blame this one," he gestured to Hermione. "She wanted to come, so who was I to refuse?" He patted Hermione's hand fondly before looking at Hannah with a small grin. "Nico di Angelo," he introduced himself as he shook her hand. "It's nice to meet you."

Hannah's eyes widened before she blushed bashfully. "I'm Hannah," she said in a small voice.

Ernie's eyes flashed dangerously and he glowered at Nico. "Yes, well, we better get back to the dance floor. Feel free to join us if you want." He looked at Hermione. "Be careful with him," he said to her in a quiet voice as he led Hannah away, who was still blushing.

"I don't think he likes me very much," Nico mused aloud and Hermione sighed.

"Come on," he said, offering her his hand. "Let's have some fun." He pulled her to the floor where Katie Bell was teaching everyone how to do the wizard's dance. The steps seemed to rotate around in a circle, so Nico tried to memorize where he had to put a foot and where he had to kick his leg up or turn on a dime. It was complicated, very fast and surprisingly very fun. Nico picked up most of the steps very quickly, but some of the moves he had to work out several times in his head before he could actually get them correct. A couple minutes into the night, Harry and Ginny joined them in the dance. Hermione seemed to be having fun. When she fell during a particular part of the song, she burst out laughing with the rest of the students around her. Nico helped her up and they kept dancing into the next song and the next.

And then, Hermione's stomach grumbled.

Nico flashed a grin. "I guess we better break for dinner, then," he said before leading her to a table where he sat her down. "So," he said as food appeared on their plates. "Having fun?"

Hermione nodded, looking thoughtful. "Yes, as a matter of fact, I am."

"You sound surprised," said Nico with a frown.

She shrugged. "Well, I didn't really know how tonight would turn out. So far, it's been pretty good. You know, you're not that bad a fake boyfriend, Nico. We should do this more often."

He snorted. "Whatever you say Hermione," he intoned as he twirled a bit of pasta onto his fork and neatly bit into it.

Hermione frowned at him as he ate. _Ron doesn't eat like that,_ she thought sadly. _He eats rapidly and with gusto. Not slowly and elegantly like Nico does. I wish Ron were here. _The thoughts came unbidden to her mind but she pushed it away.

"You're thinking about him," Nico interrupted her thoughts, frowning at her. "Stop thinking about him and have a good time."

She took a deep breath and pushed her thoughts to the side. "Okay," she said quietly before smiling as Nico placed some long, thin type of pasta onto her plate. "Thanks," she murmured.

Nico was looking into his full wine glass in confusion. "Why are these things filled with champagne?" he asked. "I'm underage."

Hermione raised an eyebrow. "In the wizarding world, people ages sixteen and up are allowed to drink alcohol."

"That's weird," he said before taking a curious sip of the champagne and making a face. "Ugh." His face was screwed up in disgust. "That tastes disgusting."

She laughed. "You'll get used to it."

"Oh, Zeus, I hope not." He grimaced. "How do adults drink that stuff?"

Hermione was about to answer him when a large hand landed on his shoulder. Nico turned to look at Slughorn's bulging, waistcoated stomach. Blinking, he turned his head upwards to see the balding man grinning indulgently down at him.

"Ah, Nico," said Slughorn as he ruffled Nico's hair affectionately with a happy little gleam in his eyes. "You will understand a man's fondness of fine wines soon enough, just as you in your youth discovered a fondness for beautiful women." He flashed a knowing smile at Hermione, who flushed slightly.

Nico rolled his eyes good-naturedly before nodding in agreement. "I guess so, Professor."

Slughorn chuckled and patted his stomach, looking wistful. "Oh, I remember what it was like, to be devoted and loyal to that one special girl you couldn't stop thinking of."

Nico winced and very sincerely hoped to himself that he wouldn't end up like poor, old Professor Slughorn, who loved to be surrounded by talented, beautiful people and liked fine wine.

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Dinner was soon over (much sooner than Nico had expected) and the party had started up again, with more food, well-known celebrities (courtesy of Slughorn's impressive connections), lots and lots of dancing and even more mingling. Nico was leaning against one of the far walls – watching Hermione and Ginny dance a little distance away – when he thought he caught sight of a rather gloomy looking vampire staring at him at one point. The creature was tall and ghastly white with shadows under his dull, glassy eyes and his dark hair swept to one side. He was standing next to a wizard who was chatting energetically with one very uncomfortable looking Harry Potter.

Nico, curious, reached out with his demigod senses and took a step back when he felt absolutely nothing coming off of the pale man. Just the tingling of death and a sort of depressed curiosity sparking inside the otherwise animated body. The vampire smirked crookedly at Nico for a moment, sniffing at the air appreciatively in his direction before turning back to staring at nothing. Nico narrowed his eyes suspiciously but let it go as he relaxed back into watching other students dance. The vampire had done nothing to make him suspicious – other than being a bloodthirsty leech, of course, but that didn't _necessarily_ put anyone in danger…

Nico huffed in amusement at his own thoughts. Sometimes demigod paranoia came in handy when you were actually in danger, but it got annoying when peril was highly unlikely. After all, they were in _Hogwarts_; the safest haven in the Wizarding World. Sure, the vampire might be tempted, but he wouldn't dare try anything when he was surrounded by wizards with deadly wands. He rolled his shoulders, the dress robes a little heavy. No, the wizards were safe and he had nothing to get upset about.

"_Ooh,"_ hissed a malevolent from behind him. "If I had known that _you'd_ be coming, I would've stayed in bed."

Nico sighed, rolling his eyes. He turned, smirking. "Hello to you too, Ms. Parkinson," he cooed condescendingly. "Why yes, I _have_ been having a good day. How about you?"

Pansy Parkinson wore long, flowing robes that glittered icily in the dim lighting. They were a beautiful silver color and she looked frosty yet pretty in the formerly warm atmosphere. The top of her robes had a fitted corset while the skirt of her robes brushed against the floor behind her. She had dangling diamond earrings in her lobes and her long, swan neck was draped with long, polished chains of gold and silver. Nico thought he saw a green pendant hanging from one of her many necklaces but it was hard to tell. Her short black hair was swept into a tight bun and her lashes had been plumped with an unnatural amount of mascara that strangely suited her. She was as beautiful and as chilly as an icicle and Nico couldn't help but guess that that was what she had been aiming for in dressing so frigidly.

Parkinson sneered at him. "Who would've thought Slughorn had such bad taste," she growled.

"I completely agree," Nico quipped, eyeing her venomously. "That's probably the only reason he would invite _you_ of all people. _Bad taste, _indeed."

Her eyes flashed for a moment before she gathered her scattered composure. She narrowed her eyes at him and sipped delicately from her wine-glass and a slow, thick silence filled the air. She bit her lip and looked at him with a large pout. "So _mean_ tonight, aren't we, di Angelo?" she said silkily.

Nico didn't take the bait and instead looked over her head, surprised to see Draco Malfoy fingering a glass of champagne sulkily, sitting at a nearby table that was far from empty. The Slytherin surrounded by several girls from multiple houses, who were flirting with him desperately. Malfoy wasn't a part of the Slug Club, Nico remembered, so the pureblooded bitch next to him must've invited him.

The demigod smirked to himself. This would get interesting. "Me, _mean_?" Nico swiveled his attention back to Parkinson. His voice was unbearably innocent. "You're the one who abandoned her date to talk to another boy." He nodded at Malfoy, who was determinedly ignoring one Romilda Vane who was talking rather loudly.

Parkinson glanced at her date before doing a quick double take. Nico could practically see her face going green with jealously. An ugly snarl curled her lipsticked mouth and a grumbled "Go to hell, di Angelo," was all he got from the girl before she stalked over to her boyfriend, scaring off his female admirers.

Nico snickered but his amusement ended when Romilda Vane's gaze turned from Malfoy and locked on his person greedily. She detached herself from the Slytherin and strode towards him, a determined look in her eye and a creepy, lecherous smile on her lips.

"Oh, _shit_," Nico cursed before turning rapidly on his heel and walking away as quickly as possible without actually running. Soon, he had made it out of the Great Hall and was in the corridor outside of the dining room, stiffening when he heard the black haired girl warble his name in what she thought was a seductive tone from behind him.

"_Niiiicoooo_!" she sang. "I know you're _theeeereee,_ somewhere!"

Nico, without a second thought, bolted from the hallway to the right, his stomach in his throat. He vaguely registered that he had slipped outside, through the entrance doors before the fourth year could catch him. A crisp, cool breeze brushed gently against his flushed face and he sighed, relieved, because he knew that Romilda wouldn't think he had gone outside. It was a beautiful night, he realized, leaning against the enormous door behind him. The sky was clear from clouds and was a velvety sort of black with just a sheen of deep blue. The stars were visible and Nico could see clusters of them smeared together and lone, individual dots that stood independently against the pretty backdrop. The brightness of the moon made up for the heavy darkness and Nico bit his lip as he took in Artemis's domain. He knew she didn't like him all that much for the sole reason that he was a boy and he didn't like her all that much either, but he couldn't help but admire the goddess's power. The Forbidden Forest stood starkly against the dark sky and was highlighted silver by the light of the stars and the moon, the trees looking tall and commanding. It was heartbreakingly gorgeous and Nico felt a sense of nostalgia flood through him.

"My Lord," said a smooth voice next to him.

Nico was hard-pressed not to jump and he could feel himself tensing at the close proximity of the voice. He forced himself to slowly, calmly turn around and he met cool, dark eyes that were eyeing him warily, albeit respectfully.

It was the vampire.

Nico frowned. He knew that as Hades's son he was well-respected and (more often than the former) well-feared among the dead. He had wondered whether that factor applied to the undead in the Wizarding World and the way their ghosts treated him was more than answer enough. But he hadn't even thought about vampires before this evening. So far, his limited knowledge frustrated him. He was very unprepared and vulnerable if the vampire decided to eat him.

And then he realized the vampire was looking at him, waiting for an answer. "Nico di Angelo," he said and he wondered whether he should offer his hand because he didn't know if vampires shook hands.

The vampire decided for him as he swooped low into a deep bow. "My Lord," he repeated. "I am Sanguini, one of your father's servants. I hope you have enjoyed your stay here, with the wizards."

Nico frowned. "Yes, I have." He paused before asking hesitantly "You _are_ a vampire, right?" He didn't want to be wrong and accidentally imply that Sanguini was a vampire without being absolutely sure.

"Yes, I am, my Lord," the once-human said, his gaze not moving from Nico's. "But you have nothing to fear from me, Prince. I fed only this morning and I have a… _snack_ in my pocket in case I become hungry."

"…Prince?" Nico managed to say, his voice sounding choked.

"Yes," Sanguini intoned. "You are the son of my King. Therefore, you are my Prince."

Nico sighed, suddenly feeling very tired. "I need a smoke," he breathed before rummaging in his pocket to do just that. Sanguini watched, half-amused, half-curious as Nico brought out a thin ambrosia cigarette before lighting it with his wand. As a curl of smoke curled into the air, Nico brought the roll to his mouth and breathed. Thick, bluish clouds fell from the demigod's mouth and Sanguini thought he smelled the sweet scent of some sort of lemon candy in the air. His dead lungs breathed in the secondhand smoke and for once in his ridiculously long afterlife, something appealed to the vampire other than human blood and he remembered what it was like to eat like a mortal.

"My Lord?" The vampire's throat felt oddly tight and he had to remind himself that it was scientifically impossible for a dead corpse to cry.

"Hmm?" Nico turned to face Sanguini, blowing smoke from his pursed lips.

"If you could, my Prince, would you tell your father that I am still loyal?" The vampire's eyes looked moist in the silvery light of the moon. "That I still stand by him and always will, even if he allows me back into the Underworld?" His voice was thick with desperation and Nico was surprised to see the regal looking creature staring at him like that.

"Of course," Nico said faintly after he took a fairly long drag from his cigarette. A large ring of blue smoke coiled in the air and lingered longer than it should have.

"Thank you, my Lord," the vampire said and he went silent.

They stayed there for a while, just watching the moon, standing side by side.

**Booka: Okay, so I'd like to say that I planned every single thing that happened in this chapter to a T, but if I said that, I'd be lying. WHY'S SANGUINI HERE! I DID NOT KNOW THAT WAS GOING TO HAPPEN! This fanfiction is not following orders, I tell you. IT'S NOT! It was a fight to actually write this. I practically had to shackle myself to the chair to finish this damn thing. Sooo not appreciating the rope marks on my wrists, btw. **

**On a different note, as you can tell from the AN at the beginning of the chapter, I started this ff in Florida, but ended it in New York. Yay! I'm home! And as one of my reviewers so kindly pointed out, EMPIRE STATE FOR THE WIN! (Thanks to TheSexyBitchesFromFiore for pointing that out; awesome penname, by the way.) **

**Nico: I have nothing to say, so why don't you just talk to Leo?**

**Leo: *Snores***

**Booka: He's asleep. _He's. _**_**Asleep**_**. What I would give to actually have NORMAL characters in my fanfictions. **

**Nico: You know you don't mean that. **

**Booka: Eh. I can dream. **


	19. Chase-Devil

**Booka: Okay, now the reviews are officially over 300. Thank you guys a thousand times over. All of you (yes, YOU) and your support mean so much to me. *sniff* **

**Previously in SODAH:**

_They stayed there for a while, just watching the moon, standing side by side._

**Now, continued:**

Nico sighed softly, exhaling a flood of smoke and he risked a glance at his… er… companion, for lack of a better term. Subject probably would've been a better description, but Nico refused to let himself go down that road. It made him feel haughty. He shifted from foot to foot before jumping when the doors behind them banged open.

"WHO'S OUT HERE AFTER HOURS?" screamed a loud voice.

Nico whirled around and glared at the Hufflepuff prefect. He couldn't remember the seventh year's name, but he had a suspicion that it was ridiculously long.

The prefect (whose name was Jonathan M. Nicklestone, by the way, despite the irrelevance) blinked several times in order to process what he was seeing. That weird, pale exchange student (Nick Angel, or something like that) was outside, smoking a Muggle cigarette and was talking to a tall vampire. He had flowers in his hair, Nicklestone processed bewilderedly. He was also glaring fiercely at the Hufflepuff.

"Can we help you?" the American asked scathingly.

Nicklestone felt himself blush before gathering himself up and trying to look brave. "Yes, yes you can," he said in what he supposed was a firm tone, but Nico just thought he sounded insolent. "Care to explain why you and your… _friend_ are out after hours?"

Nico looked at him, a twisted expression on his face. "As you obviously weren't invited, Professor Slughorn is holding a dance in the Great Hall. We're allowed to be out here after curfew, you know?"

Nicklestone looked lost for words and his mouth opened and closed several times before he managed to shut it. He looked like he wanted to say something derogatory but a jolly voice interrupted him.

"Nico, my boy!" cried Slughorn enthusiastically. "Whatever are you doing out here, in this horrible weather? And Mr. Sanguini too!" He looked at the Hufflepuff prefect, his expression surprised. "Good evening, Nickleby!" He got the Puff's name wrong, but the student didn't bother to correct him. "I don't recall inviting you to the dance!"

"Professor," Nicklestone said gruffly, glaring at Nico, but he didn't dare say anything with a teacher beside him. "I was just on patrol, sir. Nothing worth mentioning."

The Potions Master eyed him suspiciously, but didn't question it. "Patrol. Of course, of course."

The son of Hades snorted to himself and the teacher turned to him. "Come in, come in," Slughorn managed to herd both of the two… er… _creatures,_ for the deficiency of a more appropriate word, back into the castle doors. "It's too cold for you to be out there, you know," he chided. "You'll catch your death."

Sanguini shared an amused look with Nico. _Not likely, _the demigod thought to himself.

"Now," Slughorn proclaimed as they walked back to the Great Hall. "I've no idea why you were skulking around outside, di Angelo, but I won't pry." He glanced at the vampire beside one of his favorite students, before looking away. "But you know I have an open door policy. If you'd like to speak with me, I'm always here."

"Yes, sir," Nico said, eyes pinned to the floor.

Slughorn beamed as he gently pushed Nico into the dining hall, gesturing for Sanguini to follow the demigod. The vampire ignored the old wizard as he strode elegantly by, but to the Potion Master's confusion, he didn't bypass the demigod in front of him. Instead, he fell into step just a few inches behind but never ahead.

"NICO!" shouted a voice as they entered the hall.

Nico turned, a look of pleasant surprise on his pale face. "Luna," he said, smiling slightly as he took in the lemon-yellow dress robes and the collection of brilliant curling yellow flowers braided through her hair. Her grey eyes were bright and twinkling and her smile was wide.

"How are you?" he asked her. "Are you enjoying the dance?"

She nodded enthusiastically. "Of course! Spring Equinox balls are very brain-stimulating, did you know? It's very, very healthy to go to a dance at least once or twice a year."

Nico blinked then smiled. "No, I did not know that, Luna. That's very interesting."

Slughorn stepped forward, his arms spread widely. "Miss Lovegood," he said warmly. "A lovely surprise. I'd not known you where coming." He moved closer and eyed her blossom-covered head curiously. "What beautiful flowers," he mused. He sniffed deeply and Nico wondered idly whether he would sneeze or not. "Extravagant colors, decadent scent…"

"Thank you professor," Luna said sagely. "They are _Hypericaceae hypericum perforatum Ababoles,_ commonly known as St. John's Wort, chase-devil, Tipton's weed, Amber or Goat Weed. When fermented in vinegar for two to five years, they repel Wrackspurts magnificently."

Sanguini arched an elegant eyebrow. "Wrackspurts?" he drawled.

Nico shot him a look and the vampire innocently averted his eyes, smirking.

"Yes," Luna answered, oblivious of Sanguini's skepticism. "Wrackspurts: funny, invisible little creatures that float through your ears and make your brain go all fuzzy. I'm not sure if they affect vampires all that much, though." She narrowed her eyes at the vampire, who covered up a snicker by coughing rather loudly.

"This, for the record, is why we don't allow students to consume alcohol," Nico heard Sanguini mutter to Slughorn.

.

.

.

The dungeons of Hogwarts: damp, musty and unbearably cold – for most people. Severus Snape wasn't one of them. If anything, he preferred the gloomy, shadowy atmosphere to the sickeningly upbeat mood that seemed to clot the air in the Great Hall. Of course, that was his opinion. It was quiet in his personal office. His only company was the animal parts used for potions ingredients floating in their glass jars. He smirked grimly to himself. The quiet was the best part of his office. There were no sniveling, evil little brats bugging him and making a mess out of the simplest of potions. Silence was bliss.

And then, while Snape was in the middle of brewing a rather important potion, things became not-so-quiet.

His prized, heavily polished potions cupboard was by all means large and it did hold several unstable potions ingredients, but that didn't mean that it usually shook as if it had been caught up in a level ten earthquake, now did it? Snape unsheathed his wand, his eyes narrowed as he edged cautiously towards the trembling cabinet. He had no idea what was happening, but if it was the ingredients that was causing a chemical reactions, then the entire student population wasn't safe. The tremors were strange, seeing as he had cast very powerful incantations on it to stop any responses from the components.

And then, the shaking stopped. Snape paused, his wand raised above his head towards the cupboard, suspicious.

The annoying voices started up.

"—the hell are we?" said a quick, annoyed voice. "We were supposed to be in the dining room or something."

"Well obviously Mrs. O' Leary didn't know where that was. I hate shadow-travel," grumbled another.

"Ugh! Leo, you're jabbing me in the ribs!" a noticeably feminine voice complained loudly.

"Oops. Sorry," the boy called Leo (the fast-paced one) said and there was an awkward shuffling sound.

"Ow!" cried the one who hated shadow-travel (whatever that was). "You're. Standing. On. My. Toe!"

"Sorry! Sorry!" Leo yelped and the cupboard rocked from side to side before steadying.

"I swear to Zeus, if you poke me again, I will castrate you," the girl threatened lowly.

"…You really are a sadistic little demigoddess aren't you?"

Snape had deduced that the intruders that were in his cupboard weren't Death Eaters. They, judging from that little slip in their banter, must be demigods who had managed to sneak past the wards surrounding the castle. Snape scowled. Di Angelo was starting to create more trouble than the Potions Master could handle.

His hand shot out and the door to the cupboard was unceremoniously yanked open. Three teenagers—two male, one female—tumbled out of the severely cramped closet. He raised an eyebrow as they all leapt to their feet to unsheathe multiple weapons. There was a golden sword, a silver bow and, to his amusement, an extremely large hammer.

"Are you quite done?" he asked sneeringly.

The girl – a black-haired, little slip of a thing with eyes the color of electricity – glared at him. Snape blinked when he found his eyes level with a silver, lethal arrow that was taught and ready for release.

"And you are?" the girl said snidely, matching his previous tone.

Snape, to his credit, didn't jump when faced with a life-threatening situation. He merely smiled wryly before intoning "I'm one of Mr. di Angelo's teachers, you silly girl. Now, put that away before someone gets hurt."

She looked at him warily before reluctantly lowering her weapon when he only stood there, an irritating look in his eyes. "What do you want?" she asked rudely.

Snape gave a huff of sardonic laughter. "You are the ones who so rudely appeared in my ingredient cupboard. I should be asking you that question. Now, who are you?"

The smaller boy with curly black hair and wicked, impish eyes dropped his hammer to his side. "_Hola_," he said pleasantly. "I'm Leo Valdes, the girl's Thalia and the kid with the sword's Percy Jackson. We're demigods. And, from your greasy hair and disgusting skin, you must be Snape, Nico's teachie."

Snape's eye twitched subtly and even though Leo had only spoken two sentences, the Potions Master could already tell that he and the boy would not be getting along.

"Sorry," said the black haired boy—Jackson—who stood next to Thalia. "He doesn't exactly know how to be polite."

The Potions Master sneered and said lowly "Obviously. Now, I would like to know why and how you bypassed the wards."

The demigods shifted uneasily and they exchanged a small glance.

"Something came up in the war," Thalia eventually relented under the Professor's intense stare. "We shadow-traveled here with a little help from Hades. We wouldn't have normally, but Nico needs to know what's happening and _you_ are _not_ going to stop us. Do you understand?"

He snorted but he said nothing before stepping aside. He'd read Jackson's mind and found that everything he'd been told was 100% true. That wasn't necessarily a good thing, if what he'd found out in his browsing was anything to go by.

.

.

.

Harry Potter wasn't specifically the smartest of his peers, but he wasn't as dumb as Snape liked to think of him. He could be most intelligent when he wanted, puzzling out logical riddles that would've stumped the most powerful of wizards, but he wasn't book-savvy, per se. He could and had made obscure connections in his past years at Hogwarts in order to survive, but that wasn't school-smarts talking, that was instinct and pure luck. He wasn't nearly as clever as Hermione, but like her, he was good at figuring things out. Unfortunately, his gift was more erratic than Hermione's ever was. He had a knack for noticing small, insignificant details that others missed, and figuring out the big picture from apparently unrelated bits of information. Of course, it didn't happen very often; it appeared more when he was in a life-threatening situation.

But even he knew that having three demigods in Hogwarts didn't happen often. He recognized Percy, Leo and Thalia from when the Burrow had been attacked and he had Flooed into Nico's home. They had just marched into the Dining Hall, Leo looking nervous and skittish and Percy's eyes narrowed and intimidating. Thalia was scowling and muttering under her breath to her cousins. They all seemed very different from the last time he had seen them, even if it wasn't physical, but more demeanor-related. He remembered that Leo and Percy both shared a silly, if not sharp and witty sense of humor, but right now they didn't even resemble the warm, smiling people he had met at their cousin's house.

Nico himself was on the other side of the Great Hall, chatting amiably to a pale, gaunt man with longish, sharp teeth which were only noticeable when he spoke. The man was tall and thin and he seemed to regard Nico somewhat respectfully, casting fervent, calculating glances at him occasionally. A girl with dirty blonde hair and ridiculously bright yellow robes was at the demigod's side, not taking part in the conversation, but seeming to be content with simply standing there, swaying to the music and looking distantly off into space. Harry immediately recognized her as Luna Lovegood, but he wondered how she would look to Nico's family. A little crazy, most likely, he decided.

The family of demigods grimly passed him, Jackson bolting straight to Nico, while Thalia followed close behind. Leo stood awkwardly on the threshold but didn't answer Slughorn when he saddled up to the demigod. He merely ignored the spluttering professor's words of admonishment, remaining tightlipped even when the Potions Master began demanding answers as to who they were and why they were here.

Harry at first didn't want to get involved; he was content with minding his own business and had uneasily turned back to listening to Ginny, but he kept an eye on the demigods all the same. He watched as Nico's expression darkened considerably and he exchanged a few quiet words with his cousins before turning to Sanguini and Luna. He looked like he said a hasty goodbye, but Harry couldn't really tell. And then, on the other side of the hall, Leo turned and snapped at Professor Slughorn fiercely, but not loudly. The man's eyes went large and his face went white before he stuttered out something Harry couldn't hear.

Valdez turned away, disgruntled and his eyes, sweeping across the room, landed on Harry. They widened in surprise at him before swiveling to Thalia, Nico and Jackson, who were already there by that time. He said something quickly to them and Thalia nodded as she herded Nico and Percy out the door. Valdez nervously glanced back at them before jogging quickly over to Harry's side.

"Leo?" he said, bewildered.

The demigod smiled sheepishly at him, but Harry couldn't help but notice that his smile looked a little strained. "Hey kid," he said through gritted teeth.

"What's going on?"

"Um…" Leo's eyes darted to the Great Hall's doors again before settling back on The-Boy-Who-Lived. "That's kinda hard to explain… Things have been getting a little rough lately, with the war and we needed to tell Nico something _really_ important. I guess, considerin' you're the Boy-Who-Lived and all, I should tell ya too."

Harry frowned.

"The Ministry is going on lockdown," Leo finally said grimly. "No wizard's going in or out of London as we speak; everyone has to go back to their common rooms, _now_."

"What?!" Harry gaped. "Why?"

He winced. "Hecate's been kidnapped."

The-Boy-Who-Lived felt his mouth drop open. "Hecate… The goddess?"

The son of Hephaestus nodded solemnly.

The wizard's eyes fell closed in shock. "Hecate—kidnapped…? Why—? How!"

"I'll explain later," Leo intoned as he grabbed Harry's arm and began dragging him to the door. "Right now, we need to get you to the Dormitories. You'll be safe there."

"I'm safe where I am," protested Harry futilely as the demigod ignored him. "No, seriously! This is Hogwarts we're in, Leo, the wards aren't just going to come down because someone was kidnapped."

Leo gave him a look, like _'really?'_

"What?" he said defensively.

"Harry, this isn't just anyone we're talking about," Valdez said patiently as he continued to tow Harry out of the Great Hall and hauled him back into the corridor. "This is _Hecate, the freaking goddess of magic!_ If Voldemort has her under his control, then yeah, the wards are pretty much as useful as a car without an engine. So, shut up and run!"

.

.

.

The Common Room was unnaturally warm. When Leo had seen the door-sized fireplaces, he had grinned maniacally and had jumped into the flickering embers, much to Hermione's original horror. When Leo had made the fire leap up and blaze hotly and still was not burned to a crisp, Hermione had been faintly embarrassed, to Nico's mirth.

"He's the son of Hephaestus," Percy had explained. "The God of Fire."

"That's a relief," commented Harry. "I thought for sure he would burn to ashes for a moment."

Ron shook his head in disbelief at the demigod. "That's… not normal."

"'Course man," Leo grinned wickedly. "I don't _do_ 'normal.'"

The rest of their House was asleep. Professor McGonagall had made sure of that with some mild sleeping charms that didn't cause any unexpected side effects. The students hadn't been alerted of their patron goddess's impending doom, as the demigods didn't want them to have any reason to panic.

"If you think you're gonna die, you _know_ you're gonna die," Thalia said gravely at Hermione's question. "No point in filling them with dread and panic, now is there?" When no one answered, she collapsed onto one of the long couches, stretching out until she completely covered the sofa. "It's been a long day," she said defensively at Harry's amused expression.

They sat in silence for a while longer, Ron, Hermione and Harry all squished together on one of the larger couches and Percy reclined onto one of the armchairs. Nico was toying with his crown of roses that he had so elegantly torn out of his hair as soon as they had entered the living area. Leo was still lying in the hearth, playing with the flames absentmindedly. In the dim light of the Dormitory, his tan skin looked like it was doused in reddish, orangey star-fire and his eyes seemed to glow amber from his perch on the coals. Harry's eyes drifted to Thalia, whose flesh faintly shown silver with what Nico had told him was immortality. He shuddered faintly; he personally would've stayed far away from the Hunters of Artemis if it meant he had to live forever.

His trail of thought was broken when Ron finally blurted "How exactly do you kidnap an all-powerful goddess?" He went pink underneath the demigods' gazes and he shrugged sheepishly. "It's just that she's, ya know, a goddess and all. I didn't think they could get kidnapped."

Percy laughed, but not meanly. "It's okay. I thought that too a couple years ago. But the gods aren't perfect. They're not infallible and all-knowing like , you know, _God_; they make mistakes and they're—"

"Selfish and jealous and easily offended," Thalia cut in and Percy glared at her when thunder rolled above them despite there being no storm clouds. "It's true!"

Leo nodded in agreement. "And they always have their own motives, even when they're helping you. That's why it's so hard to trust gods. But they're extremely all-mighty and all that crap, so it's better that everyone just takes their word for whatever it is or risk being turned into a kangaroo, getting electrocuted, having a horrible love life, slow internet for all eternity or all four at the same time."

Lightning crackled happily and Leo smirked, pleased with himself.

"Right," said Percy, amused annoyance in his voice. "My point is: if you're clever enough to capture a god or goddess, their power kind of disappears in a way. They're weaker than they would've been and they can't get out of their cage or chains or whatever it is you're using to hold them. Kinda like the universe saying 'you deserve to be kidnapped if you were stupid enough to be caught in the first place.'"

Harry raised an eyebrow. "Harsh."

"The Old Laws always are," Thalia intoned with an eye roll.

Silence fell over them and Nico thought furiously for a moment, watching his friends through half-lidded eyes.

"Now that I think about it," Nico began, curiously. "I have a question too."

Harry and Hermione turned to look at him and he shrugged at their stares. "It's about Vol— You-Know-You," he cut himself off at Ron's wince. "Why's he all… you know?" He covered his nose with his hand, smiling slightly when Harry laughed. "No nose, eyes all red? Is that normal in the Wizarding World or something?"

"Definitely not," snorted Harry. "Voldemort,"—he ignored the flinches—"isn't really human."

Nico raised an amused eyebrow. "Really? What is he then? Half-snake? Was he hatched or something?"

Harry shook his head. "No. He was born human, but he never acted it, I don't think. He was always very… emotionless." He leaned forward, eyes squinted at his knees in thought. "He's an abnormally smart, powerful man who's constantly pushing aside his humanity in order to rule the world—as stupid as that is—and kill anyone who gets in his way. He's always hated Muggles; they treated him really badly where he grew up. He lived in an orphanage for his entire life. He seemed weird to the other children and he got bullied because of that; so he bullied back and that isolated him from everyone else. It got worse when he came to Hogwarts. He was finally where he belonged, he was powerful and he could speak to snakes. He was special in this world and he became arrogant."

"Why?" Thalia interrupted.

Harry shrugged. "Because he could. He hadn't been able to when he was in the orphanage. They knocked him down and he was building himself back up by being a berk and a world-dominating-psychopath."

"That's… very depressing," Leo summarized slowly and Percy nodded in agreement.

"So," Nico said, eyes trained on his hands. "When do the Horcruxes come into play in Mr. Riddle's life?"

Harry looked at him oddly and Hermione asked "How do you know about the Horcruxes?"

"We're fighting the war, too, so obviously Dumbledore needs to trust us just a teensy bit," Thalia said jokingly.

The-Boy-Who-Lived coughed awkwardly before saying "Uh, Riddle didn't really start making Horcruxes until he was out of school, but he ripped his soul when he was pretty young."

Percy frowned. "How young?"

"Huh." Harry tilted his head. "I think around… fifteen maybe. That was when the Chamber of Secrets was opened and all, so…"

Nico's eyebrows furrowed. "Chamber of Secrets? What's that?"

The messy-haired boy blinked. "Wait. You don't know what the Chamber of Secrets is?"

All of the demigods shook their head.

"Oh. Um, I didn't know. Sorry, I just assumed—I thought Dumbledore or Professor McGonagall might've told you or something, but I guess not. And we didn't cover it in History class this year and I don't think you would've been able to keep your eyes open in order to learn it anyway. Sheesh, I've never really had to explain this to anyone, have I?" He glanced at Hermione and she shook her head. "Hmm. I guess it wouldn't hurt to tell you, with the Basilisk gone and all… So, it started in my second year. Before that I didn't really know that speaking to snakes wasn't normal. I just kinda figured it was pretty much ordinary wizard stuff, talking to animals and all. That really wasn't the case…"

_**To Be Continued**_

**Booka: Um, so I guess you guys have figured out now that I'm not dead or anything, despite the ridiculously long wait for this chapter. I guess I should start off with an apology, but seriously dudes, this part has so far been a son of a gorgon to get on paper. **

**Nico: It has been. You don't know how LONG she's been COMPLAINING and WHINING about this stupid little piece of—**

**Booka: Yes, yes, Nico, we get it. My story does not live up to your Greek-Godly-Expectations. **

**Nico: Hell right it doesn't. **

**Leo: Oh, I dunno Nico, if you tilt your head and squint it's not so bad. **

**Nico: If you tilt your head and squint, you can't read the words.**

**Leo: Exactly! *beams***

**Booka: That's offensive. So anyway, review. Flames will be read and discarded in the rubbish bin and constructive criticism shall be cherished and adored in the box of wonders hidden under my bed. LOVE YOUS!**


	20. Capture

**Chapter Twenty**

**Booka: Not mine, not mine and not mine. Anyone who says otherwise needs to get their head checked. **

**Tribute:**** Okay, before you start ripping into my lateness with the chapter, I want to extend my sincere condolences to the people who were affected in the Newtown Massacre. No one deserves to die so young, so violently and it never should've happened. It was an awful tragedy and I know America will be talking about this event for years to come. I ask all my readers now to bow their heads and have a little, private moment of silence for those poor babies who died that terrible day.**

…

Nico went to bed exhausted that night. Percy, Leo and Thalia crashed in the common room, ignoring Hermione's protests. "It's for protection," Zeus's daughter said, waving her hand dismissively. "Anyone comes through that door…"—she made a cut-throat motion with her hands—"Trust me."

"I don't want any of you getting hurt for our sakes, though," Harry interrupted.

"Don't worry; we know how to fight." Thalia smirked.

"So do we," he argued.

She laughed. "Don't worry, babe; considering that story you were telling me and the boys, I think you can handle yourself real well." She winked at Harry, which Nico thought was _highly_ unnecessary, seeing as she was an eternal virgin and all.

The demigod jumped into bed soon afterwards and he fell asleep before the sheets even settled, he was so exhausted, mentally and physically. But somehow, during the night, he woke up. This night was one of the darkest Nico had ever experienced. It was pitch black outside, with no stars and no moon, just an expanse of nothing. There was no light whatsoever. It was if every light in the universe had suddenly flickered out. Nico—because he was a son of Hades—could see, but he knew that if he'd been born a mortal, he wouldn't have been able to see five inches from his face. The darkness was cool and subtly comforting for him and as he breathed, he couldn't remember a time where he'd been more relaxed than he was now. He closed his eyes; he could feel the softness of his mattress beneath him and the warmth of his blankets cocooning him. He was floating somewhere between alertness and unconsciousness. He could've gone under if he'd wanted to, but all he could do was drift.

It never occurred to him that he was under a spell.

A shiver went up his spine unexpectedly and the thin, wispy hairs on the back of his necks stood on end, as if someone were watching him. Nico's eyes flashed open and he sat up quickly, all traces of sleepiness gone. He swallowed; he felt as if someone had blown an arctic wind over his skin. His tongue stuck to the top of his roof and his muscles felt petrified with cold. He could see his breath misting in front of him and his teeth were chattering. He flung the curtains of his bed open and, eyes roving over the rest of his dorm-mates who were shivering in their beds, he bounded up swiftly before hovering over Harry's bed.

"Harry," he hissed urgently as he shook the boy's shoulder. The-Boy-Who-Lived didn't respond, to Nico's panic. "Harry!" he said louder, but he didn't react other than turn over in his sleep, twitching mildly. The demigod scowled before slapping him gently; when that didn't work, he slapped him not-so-gently. The scruffy-haired boy muttered something under his breath before quieting, his breath ragged. This wasn't normal. Usually, Harry was a very light sleeper. Nico knew this from when he had come back late to the dormitory one time and Harry had woken up, angrily informing him to go to sleep. But this…

This was magic.

Nico's breath caught in the back of his throat. The wards had fallen. A spell was slinking across the room and clotting the air. The Death Eaters were here.

A twist of his wrist had his sword appearing from thin air. His wand was probably useless because of Hecate's capture, but he took it out anyway. He could hear thumping noises coming up from the stairs and he swallowed impulsively. Something told him this wasn't going to be a very fair fight. He backed away from the door quickly. The thumps were getting louder now and his shoulders began to tense.

The door banged open and Nico jumped a foot in the air. A dark cloaked shape stood in the threshold and a coil of dread curled tightly in his stomach. A line he'd thought he'd forgotten in the past weeks flew across his mind. _Dark dull thuds fall upon the stair/Terrible news the cloaked man bears. _

_Crap. _

"Are you the bearer of bad news?" he asked finally.

The shadowed figure was obviously a man, with broad shoulders and a tall, bulky figure. He gave a hissy laugh that had Nico trembling slightly. "Of a sort."

A bright red spell blasted a hole in the floor where Nico had previously stood. Only, now the demigod was right behind the man and raising his sword over his head to strike him. Then, something cold and hard was digging into the back of his neck.

"Lower it, Gryffindor," said a heavy voice behind him and the wand poked him harder. "We don't have all day."

Nico swallowed his pride and the sword disappeared quickly. The Death Eater that stood in front of him smiled yellowly.

"Good job," he said thickly. "Bring 'im downstairs—the Lord wants 'im alive."

"Shut up, you idiot," snarled the man with the wand. "I know what the Dark Lord wants and he doesn't want this little half-blood escaping. So, leave the decisions to me, got it?"

Nico didn't even hear the incantation.

.

.

.

When Harry woke up, he wondered whether he was back in the cupboard under the stairs. It was cold, it was uncomfortable, he could feel a large, fat spider on his foot and it definitely smelled like what the closet smelled like — old, unwashed laundry and rotted wood. But when he flicked his eyes open, he definitely was _not_ in Number Four, Privet Drive. Because Number Four, Privet Drive did not have a dungeon, did not have shackles that attached to his wrists, and did not have a certain goddess sleeping on a platform of stone.

The young woman looked thin and frail, her skin gray—not at all how a goddess should look. She was wrapped in thick blankets, her head elevated by a scratchy looking pillow. Thick black hair curled around her like spilled ink, frizzy with bed-head. Her face was gaunt and sickly, her breath too shallow to be healthy. Her thin, skeletal hands were crossed over her chest and threaded together. She looked unreal for a moment and Harry wondered dizzily whether she happened to be Snow White waiting for Prince Charming before he came back to his senses.

He knew this was Hecate—it had to be. Even with her looking half dead, he could feel something powerful curling in the air around them: something magical that he felt whenever he spelled his Patronus or whenever he rode his broom or did a charm or curse correctly for the first time. She definitely was connected to Magic somehow.

He sighed wearily as he looked to the right of the dungeon. This was worse than the Hogwarts Dungeons—the cold was seeping into his bones far too quickly than normal and even though Snape had threatened, he'd never actually thrown any students in what used to be a containment unit for the more sadistic, more insubordinate children who couldn't be expelled in the old days (they'd had rich parents who would've freaked if their little honeys were thrown out of one of the most prestigious magic schools in Britain). The place was strangely unnaturally bright, lit by blazing torches that lined the walls. The flames were a bright, ugly green that filled the room with light, but made it look empty at the same time—Harry knew something was wrong with the cell as soon as he opened his eyes. Irons and torture devices hung from the ceiling and Harry shivered at the horse crop that hovered near his corner of the room.

By now, Harry had determined that this was all somehow executed by Voldemort, but he wondered why he was still alive. If he had been the Dark Lord—hypothetically speaking, of course—he would've just killed himself when he'd had the chance.

A short gasping sound broke him out of his thoughts and his eyes widened when they met familiar brown ones.

"Hermione?" he whispered, horrified. He hadn't expected Voldemort to bring his friends along if Harry had been captured.

She nodded frantically and to Harry's terror he could see hysterical tears beginning to form in her eyes. "Oh, Harry," she cried, tugging at the chains that encased her wrists. "What are we going to do?" She was sitting on a dirty piece of the stone floor, still in her pajamas, the bit of skin Harry could see flecked with grime and dust. The Death Eaters obviously hadn't cared much for cleaning where they'd tortured. He gagged on his tongue when he looked down at himself and realized he was sitting in what had been a pool of dried blood, because that dark, rusty brown stain underneath his feet didn't feel like mud or clay.

A head of dirty red hair caught his eye before he could answer his friend and he groaned when he recognized it. "Ron is here too?"

Hermione looked at him mournfully. "Nico as well." She nodded her head at the demigod on the other side of the dungeon. Harry winced. The boy was strung up to the ceiling by strange black ropes that wrapped around his arms; his feet were dragging on the ground beneath him like some macabre puppet, abandoned by his master. His breaths were even and deep, though, so he wasn't dead. He was obviously unconscious, his head lolling unattractively to the side; his mouth was slightly open and his eyes were tightly closed.

"So he's not going to be much help, then," Harry muttered and Hermione shook her head.

"I don't think so," she said.

He took a deep breath. "What's wrong with this place?"

She sighed weakly. "There aren't any shadows."

Harry blinked, surprised. "_What_?"

"There aren't any shadows," she repeated, looking sad.

"Why?" he asked incredulously.

"It's because of Nico." They both looked to the demigod hanging near Ron. "He can travel through shadows from one place to another, so he could just disappear the moment he wakes up. They obviously don't want that to happen, so they did a spell that banished our shadows."

"Is there any way we can escape?" he asked, desperate.

"Not that I can see. This entire cell is airtight."

Harry took a shaky breath. "How long was I out? How long have we been here?"

The brown-haired witch shuddered. "I woke up a couple hours ago. I have no idea where we are or what time it is. There aren't any windows." She shuffled nervously before whispering "They came in here when I woke up. The Death Eaters." She shivered again.

He swallowed. "What did they say?"

"They're waiting for all of us to wake up so they can… so they can… _execute _us." Hermione shook her head. "But not Nico. They need him for something 'special'."

"What kind of special?"

"The 'use him to raise an army of the dead and force him to unleash said army on the Muggle world' kind of special," a dry, amused kind of voice said echoingly.

Hermione squeaked loudly and Harry jumped, startled and the voice laughed when they both turned around to see a tall, thin figure standing near the center of the cell, right next to the sleeping Hecate. He wore a long, black jacket that reminded Harry of a more modernized version of robes, made out of a material that was reminiscent of a windbreaker. The sleeves were long and the cuffs were short. Scaled trousers (most likely made of some sort of dragon-hide) slid into pointed, black boots. He had pale, grayish skin that looked almost as sickly as Hecate's. His eyes were dark and glassy, almost like they were dead.

Sanguini had arrived.

"Good afternoon, Mr. Potter," the vampire said coolly to Harry.

The-Boy-Who-Lived opened his mouth to reply but closed it when he realized he couldn't think of anything to say that fitted the situation. He settled with "Er… hello." He could've smacked himself.

Sanguini smiled, amused.

"How—how are you here?" Hermione stuttered. "I thought this place would've been dripping with wards!"

"Ah, yes. The magic surrounding this place _is_ impressive. Very tricky things, those enchantments: if you're a wizard, that is. The Lestranges, however, did not plan on Mr. di Angelo having a vampiric friend," he informed her grimly.

"The_ Lestranges?"_ Harry echoed disgustedly.

He nodded. "Nasty little wizards," the man intoned coldly. "I was more than happy to oppose them for the Prince's sake." He glared at the ropes that held Nico captive. "And now I see why they are known for being one of the most vicious families of the Wizarding World."

"What is it?" Hermione asked.

Sanguini made a face. "The ropes are made of fabric stripped from Dementors. They prevent children of Hades from using their powers. Barbaric little magic users…" He trailed off as he strode Nico's side, looking at the thick black bands that wrapped around the boy's arms. He probed the material, wincing slightly in pain when a thin trail of smoke bloomed in the air where his skin had come into contact with them.

Hermione and Harry traded an incredulous glance before looking back at the vampire.

"This could be a problem," the vampire mused. "I can't destroy the bonds."

"Why not?" the Boy-Who-Lived asked nervously.

"Nothing dead can touch these," he said. "It would be bad for our health."

"But… you're dead," Harry said slowly. "How can you get sick if you're dead?"

Hermione piped up immediately. "While vampires aren't alive, per se, with a heartbeat and functioning organs, they still are souls inside animated bodies. So, they can feel pain."

Sanguini smiled at her indulgently as he gave a little mock bow to her. "So glad my race can inspire such curiosity in a young witch."

Said young witch smiled almost nervously. "We had to study up on vampires for the DADA O.W.L.s. I went a little overboard on researching, I suppose."

"Somehow, I don't have trouble envisioning that at all," the vampire said.

"That's besides the point, though," Harry interrupted, tugging despondently at the manacles surrounding his wrists. "We're still trapped, Ron and Nico are still out cold and Sanguini still can't get Nico out, now can he?"

Sanguini looked at the Boy-Who-Lived speculatively. "No, I can't," he said slowly. "But I can get you out of those chains, yes?"

Harry blinked. "…Yeah. I guess. They'd be pretty easy to break if you're as strong as I know you are."

"Good," he said coolly before bending down and gripping the shackles tightly. He jerked his arms backward and to Harry's alarm the chains creaked loudly from where they were implanted in the wall. Small cracks spread across the paint and as Sanguini tugged again, the manacles burst from the wall in a small explosion of plaster and concrete. The chains swung freely from his wrists and Harry looked at them wide-eyed, jumping when Sanguini did the same to the ones holding his ankles captive. He stood slowly, his legs weak as he struggled to take a step after sitting in one position for so long. He dragged his feet over to where Nico dangled; the vampire wasn't paying attention to him as he broke Hermione's restraints.

"You said… you said it would hurt dead things to touch these…" Harry gestured with his hands to the Dementor robes. "Would it hurt the living?"

"No." Sanguini didn't hesitate. "Why?"

"Because I'm gonna get him out of these things," he breathed before reaching up, feeling slightly irritated when he had to strain himself more because of the shackles that swung from his wrists. He wrapped his hands around the ropes.

He screamed.

The smell of burnt flesh filled the air and Hermione shrieked in fear. Harry jumped backwards, the scream dying in his throat and turning into a hiss of pain.

"I'm an idiot," Sanguini stated as he reached over and looked at Harry's blistered hands that were steadily darkening into an angry crimson color.

"What the hell happened?" Hermione snapped, glaring almost hysterically at the vampire. "I thought you said they didn't hurt living—"

"Things. They don't," the vampire interrupted. "But I don't believe your boyfriend here is very alive, now is he?"

Hermione sputtered.

"He got hit with the killing curse, yes?" Sanguini continued, ignoring the witch's half-formed protests as if she hadn't said anything.

"Yeah, but I'm still alive!" Harry said, wincing slightly in pain.

"Yes, but you can't expect to be hit with the Killing Curse, survive and have no side effects, now can you?"

Harry went silent, eyeing the vampire nervously.

"Magic like that doesn't just go away," Sanguini continued. "It stays, it lingers, in whatever form it can. Magic transforms, magic creates. It doesn't disappear because of a failed attempt. You, by all accounts and purposes, are dead."

Harry ran a frustrated hand through his hair. "That's—really disturbing and yeah, I guess I should look into it, but not here, not right now. We need to focus on getting out of here and back to Hogwarts. Hermione," he turned to her. "You're the only one who can get Nico out of those ropes." He glanced at Sanguini.

The undead man took the hint and managed to break her out of her chains without too much complaint. She stood shakily on wobbly legs before she stumbled over to where the demigod hung. Quickly, not wanting to touch the Dementor robes more than necessary, she untied the knots around the boy's arms and legs. The strips of fabric felt cold and evil beneath her fingertips.

Nico slumped to the ground as the ropes fell away, free but still unconscious.

"When will he wake up?" Harry asked Sanguini.

The vampire smirked. "You _can_ cast an _enervate_, right?"

"Of course," Hermione said, mildly offended.

Sanguini reached into one of the deep pockets of his trousers before brandishing two familiar, glossy wands. He tossed one to Harry and one to Hermione.

"Nicked these from Bellatrix Lestrange on the way in." He smirked. "She doesn't even know they're gone."

Harry flexed his hand that held his wand experimentally and grinned at the spray of gold sparks that replied. "Thanks." He propped Nico up on his shoulder before waving his hand expertly. "_Enervate."_

The demigod jerked before gasping for air, black eyes popping open. He scrambled and struggled to his feet before stopping when he saw Harry and Hermione hovering over him nervously.

"Oh," he rasped. "It's just you two." He relaxed slightly, but only slightly as they helped him stand. His legs looked unstable as he stumbled through the room, appearing surprised when he saw the vampire leaning on the opposite wall.

"Sanguini," he said. "What are you doing here?"

"Why, helping my prince of course," the man replied primly. "Or are you disappointed in having me here?"

"Seeing as you're the reason I'm out of those chains, no, not really." Nico smirked as he watched as Harry and Hermione used their wands to break their wrists free of the manacles and revive and release Ron from his chained prison.

The Boy Who Lived knelt near the redhead's legs, making a face as he awakened slowly. He shook his friend nervously and sighed in relief as Ron's eyes flew open.

"Huh…? What—where…?"

"Later," Nico snapped. "We have to get out of here before Voldemort finds us." Harry nodded as he stood and scooped up the unconscious goddess of magic who was still resting on her bed of stone. She was frighteningly light.

"Be careful with her," Sanguini murmured. "Her powers are unstable at the moment."

"Which means?" Harry asked nervously.

"…Just make sure you don't bump her into any walls, Potter."

Ron blinked groggily as he stood up, leaning slightly on Hermione. "Where're the others?"

"…the others?" Sanguini probed.

"Ya know… Percy and Thalia and Leo." Ron raised an eyebrow. "Don't tell me they escaped and left us all to ourselves."

"Oh no," Hermione whispered. "The Death Eaters wouldn't have left them behind—they're powerful demigods. Where are they?"

"Probably being held prisoner someplace near here," Sanguini mused.

"They're not dead," Nico interjected. "I would know if they'd died." He tapped the side of his head with his fingertip.

"So they're here somewhere," Harry said firmly. "They wouldn't be anywhere else."

"They're out there—obviously not in this cell, but somewhere in the manor." Hermione's expression was determined. "We need to get out of here." She did a complicated little motion with her wand and at first Harry thought that nothing had happened. But then he saw the floor darken underneath him and he realized that the shadows had reappeared.

"Wonderful." Nico smirked. He grabbed Harry who swung Hecate onto his shoulder in a more comfortable position. Ron and Hermione grabbed Harry and as they were all connected, Nico blinked twice and they disappeared in a flash of darkness, Sanguini on their heels. They landed in what looked like a large, long block of dungeon cells, before a blank wall that Nico assumed was what they were being held behind. The ceilings were high and there was very little lighting—there were no windows or candles. They had to do _lumos _in order to see more than a few feet in front of their face.

"They have to be here," Hermione murmured and in the dead-silence of the room it sounded as if she had shouted, her words coming back to her in long echoes.

"We should stay together," Nico said. "Come on." He started walking and Sanguini automatically followed. The Golden Trio paused nervously but quickly moved when they thought they heard a faint roar behind them.

"Why don't we just try calling their names instead of walking around, looking into empty rooms like a bunch of stupid gnomes?" Ron whispered; his voice was clipped and irritated after about ten minutes of searching and no luck.

"Because someone might hear us," Nico rolled his eyes.

"No offense, mate, but isn't that kind of the point?" the redhead said.

"Not if the person who hears us happens to be a Death Eater," Harry rebuffed, cradling the goddess in his hands nervously.

"Or a Gorgon." Nico shuddered.

"Or a werewolf," Sanguini added.

"There's nothing wrong with being a werewolf," Harry protested. "They're not villains—they just have an illness…"

"Yeah, well, Fenrir Greyback might be an exception to that," Nico muttered.

"Shut up, all of you." Hermione suddenly spoke up, tilting her head to the side in concentration. "Is it just me or do I hear something?"

They all fell quiet and faintly heard a distant voice saying _"Is anyone there?" _

"It has to be them," Ron muttered.

"Unless it's a trap," Nico said. "Voldemort seems to be the type to play dirty like that."

"Definitely," Harry growled softly, remembering vividly how he had danced into Tom's hands without even realizing it until it was too late.

"Okay, wait a minute, boys." Hermione pulled her wand with a flourish, distinguishing the light shining from the tip. "We'll just see if this is a trap or not, got it?" She laid her weapon flat in her hand, her mouth twitching anxiously. "_Point Me; Percy Jackson." _Her wand trembled for a moment before swiveling along the direction they had been travelling and from where the voice had emanated. _"Point Me: Death Eaters." _The wand twirled in another direction off to the side. "Coast is clear."

"Go!" Nico pushed past her, concern etched into his face as he sprinted down the hall, his feet barely making any sound as he ran.

"Wait, Nico!" Harry yelped as Sanguini bumped against his shoulder in his haste to get wherever the demigod was running off to. "Oof! Sanguini! Get back here, you idiots…!" He trailed off, his brow furrowed as he realized they weren't listening to him. "Oh, screw it." He started running as well as he could while he was carrying a goddess. Ron and Hermione exchanged an alarmed glance before following quickly.

…

Leo wasn't hanging above the floor with his wrists attached to the ceiling like Nico had been but he certainly wasn't in a very comfortable situation with his arms handcuffed behind him with old, Medieval looking shackles and his legs folded beneath him as he kneeled on the floor. His hands and face were cut up with his lip swollen and smeared with dried blood and Harry could see a purplish bruise forming a knot above his eyebrow.

"Nico, you lucky sonofabitch," the other demigod laughed cockily as Sanguini broke his chains off of his wrists. "I'd thought you for dead."

"Have you no faith in me?" Nico twitched his mouth in a parody of a smile.

"What happened back in Hogwarts?" Harry hissed as he melted the cuffs off of the pyro's forearms. "I didn't even know we'd been ambushed until we woke up in a cold little cell with her." He nodded his head at Hecate who they had carefully set on the floor.

"We fought so hard to keep 'em out, but there were so many of them." The son of the fire god shook his head like a dog shaking water out of his ears. "I tell you, man, I took out, like, a gazillion of those motherhuggers. We had them right where we wanted them and it was _all me_. But then, the reinforcements for the reinforcements for the reinforcements showed up and things kinda went downhill from there. One of them tried and clubbed Percy against the side of the head and the Achilles curse, it stopped them from hurting him too bad. But I'm not cursed, so when they hit me with those damn spells, I went down. Woke up here, hurting like Hades."

"Do you know where Thalia and Percy are?"

"Dunno, somewhere down this hall I guess."

…

Thalia was cussing and turning the air blue like no tomorrow when they stumbled across her with her neck encased in some sort of steel collar that was attached to a hook in the wall. She wasn't as badly beaten as Leo was overall, but her leg looked like it was twisted into a position that wasn't the most natural in the world.

"Hey, Hero-Boy," she flirted jokingly with Harry to get her mind off the pain. "Fancy meeting you here."

"Artemis is going to kill you when we get out of here," Nico warned, shifting Hecate onto his back as Harry turned slightly red at her fluttering eyes.

"Hey, what she don't know won't hurt her."

"Yeah. Besides, more blackmail material for us," Leo said cheerfully as he dissolved the chain off the hook with his carefully heated hands.

"If you even think about doing that, I swear I will hunt you down and cut off something important," Thalia growled.

"Now, see, this is why you've sworn off boys forever," Leo said matter-of-factly. "No man in his right mind would go out with someone who threatened his little soldiers."

"Are you implying that men are afraid of me?" she said.

"Of course I am. Why do you think Frank hides from you whenever you and your stupid hunters visit Camp Jupiter? You're a scary, badass daughter of Zeus who electrocutes anyone who looks at her funny, that's why."

"Why you little—!"

"As amusing as this is," Sanguini interrupted. "I believe it would be wise to continue our journey before we are discovered, yes?"

"Er, of course," Leo said.

"Right away, Sir Vampire Sir," Thalia said, sarcasm dripping off her voice.

"A little less irony would be appreciated, Miss Thalia, thank you."

…

Percy was pretty much okay, other than having a mild headache from a _stupefy _straight to the head. Of course, he was the one whose arms were encased completely in steel and whose feet were bolted to the floor because he kept trying to escape.

"What can I say?" he chuckled weakly at Nico's muttered _"Stupid heroes…"_ as Harry lasered him out of the sheeted arm of metal. "I don't know when to give up."

"Tell me about it," Nico growled.

...

**Booka: Erm… hi. *Ducks behind wall* Please don't kill me. **

**Readers: **_**Boo!**_** *throws bricks***

**Booka: Okay, I know you all must be totally disappointed in me right now. I am too. I've been putting off this chapter for so long because I've been lazy and have recently been hooked onto surfing fanfiction dot net and reading bunches of stuff I really shouldn't be. Bad author. *Hits her own head*. I feel like this chapter is a little sketchy in the beginning but gets better as it goes on. Oh and that brings me to my next point: has anyone recently seen that new Dreamworks film **_**Rise of The Guardians**_** that came out? I did. *Smirks* It was **_**awesome! **_**Jack Frost was such a cutiepatootie. I seriously don't even care that he's an animated character, I am in love. I've been staring at fanart all week on deviantart. **

**Nico: *snickers***

**Booka: Is something funny, Nico? *taps foot angrily***

**Nico: *snorts* No. **

**Leo: It probably has to do with the fact that you failed to write **_**anything**_** for three months, managed to start and finish this in two days and yet you're talking about how cute an animated character is. **

**Booka: …**

**Leo: That or he's having an epileptic fit. **

**Booka: Shut up, Leo! That's not something you joke about.**

**Leo: Oh and as we're talking about stuff completely unrelated to the fanfic you are currently reading, I am here to say… ~**_**Happy birthday to you…~**_

**Nico: Oh for the love of Zeus. My ears. **

**Leo: ~**_**Happy Birthday to you  
>Happy Birthday, dear Booka<br>Happy Birthday to youuuuuu~! **_***Glass shatters and every small fluffy animal in a 50 mile radius blacks out***

**Booka: Oh, yeah. I officially turned 14 years old on December 2****nd****. Hooray for me. *sarcasm* So, as a belated b-day present from all of you, I hereby command ye to give me all the reviews you can. Every single chapter I want reviewed. *plants hands on hips sternly***

**Nico: *snicker***

**Booka: I'M SERIOUS!**


	21. Escape (More or Less)

**Chapter 21**

**Disclaimer: As soon as I get those pesky telemarketing rights, trust me, no more of these, baby. **

Percy stumbled away from his former cell, Thalia leaning on his shoulder, her legs slung in a makeshift cast courtesy of Hermione's magic skills. Leo jogged behind them, chattering away with Harry as if they were taking a walk in the park instead of sneaking around in a wizard's dungeon. Nico followed after the two, cradling the unconscious Hecate in his arms with Ron and Hermione walking next to him. Sanguini brought up the rear, glassy black eyes roving over the hidden nooks and crannies of the dungeon in case a stray Death Eater might be lurking near them.

"_Point Me: Staircase," _Hermione cited to the wand that lay flat on her palm. They watched as it circled and pointed to their right. "Okay, we need to get to the ground floor. I think we're right around two floors underneath the surface."

"So. Staircase," Leo mused before walking slowly in the general direction the wand was pointing to. "Nothing complicated about that."

"Well, sometimes staircases in wizard homes have a pension for moving," Harry said aloud as the rest of the group followed. "So, where the steps might be there now, it might travel a couple meters in a couple hours or so."

Percy groaned lowly. "You wizards are so strange. What happens when you can't find the stairs anymore, huh?"

"Pray and hope it shows up soon," Ron grunted.

"That is so irresponsible," Thalia said, limping along with caution now, eyes searching the floor suspiciously. "What if someone randomly opens up a door and falls down the steps because they didn't know the stairs were there?"

"Well, no one ever said that wizards were particularly concerned about others' health, now did they?" Harry muttered, scuffing his feet against a part of the floor that was peeling paint and dirt. He winced when a bit of liquid dripped from the uncared-for ceiling down the back of his neck. "This place is disgusting."

"Yeah, man, tell me about it. You think if they actually use this joint as often as they say they'd take care of it at least. Decorate it a little or somethin'. Fluffy bunnies and glitter rainbows and all that crap," Leo said, straight-faced.

Hermione snickered and Nico gave Leo a look. "Can we please focus on not getting blown up by any stray Death Eaters instead of joking around, please?"

Leo snorted, "Only if you relax the stick up your butt for ten minutes, Death Spawn." His tone was light and humorous, so Nico didn't take offense, but he did hit Hephaestus's son over the head—it was the principle of things.

"Mmmh!" Leo protested. "The hell, man!"

"Don't scream stuff so loud like that when we could be killed at any moment, knucklehead," Percy said, more amused than annoyed.

The pyro rolled his eyes good-naturedly. "Gods. You people are so touchy." He blinked up at the concrete stairwell before him that definitely had not been there a few minutes ago. "Oh, look at that. We're here. So, up or down, princess?"

"Up, obviously," Thalia said as she struggled to limp up the intimidating steps while leaning on Percy for support. Said son of Poseidon winced visibly when she accidentally stepped on him.

"That's my toe, Thals," he hissed under his breath.

"Yeah, I know—it's under my foot," she snipped.

"Can all of you please shut up?" Nico breathed and everyone had to strain to hear his voice because he was being so quiet as they crept up the steps. "I don't know if I'm the only one who noticed, but we're in a life or death situation here, and all of you are cracking stupid jokes."

"Dude, we're always in life or death situations." Leo rolled his eyes. "We're demigods—it's sort of an occupational hazard.

"Yeah," Percy agreed sarcastically. "It was mentioned in the contract and everything."

"But that doesn't mean you guys have a suicide wish, now does it?" Harry interrupted. "Nico's right. You need to be quiet." He zipped his lips for emphasis. "Unless you happen to enjoy _crucios_."

"Sorry," Thalia and Leo mumbled at the same time before glaring at each other in surprise. Harry bypassed them, steadily tiptoeing up the stairs in a way that was nervous and silent at the same time. His hands were fluttering agitatedly over the banister and the top row of his teeth was gritted against the bottom row. There was a sharp pain throbbing in his forehead that wouldn't stop burning. He strove harder, biting his tongue to ignore the sting of his scar. _He knows, doesn't he? _he realized, his face going pale as they went higher up the cracked staircase. _Voldemort… He suspects we're trying to escape, doesn't he? He has to; unless he's angry about something else. _Harry scowled; couldn't Voldemort just leave him alone for one minute? He watched the walls suspiciously, wondering if Voldemort had some disillusioned paintings that were spying for him. He did a subtle revealing charm and tried a more powerful one when there was no reaction.

"What are you doing?" Thalia mumbled in question.

"Trying to see if there's anything invisible on the walls that could tell Voldemort that we're here and trying to escape," Harry answered.

"Why would you think he knows?" Nico asked.

"His scar," Hermione interrupted. "His scar holds a connection to the Dark Lord—it has ever since he was one year old."

"What kind of connection?" asked Percy suspiciously.

"Now is not the time for that," Nico snapped lowly. "We need to—"

But he was interrupted by an awful wailing sound from the above levels; someone was in a dreadful amount of pain, that was sure. They all stiffened as the screams died down just as quickly as they had begun.

"Someone's being tortured," Hermione said hollowly and Harry winced in sympathy.

"We go up," Nico decided grimly. "We find our weapons. We get the hell out of here."

"Agreed." Sanguini spoke up for the first time in a couple minutes.

.

.

.

Luna ran. She wasn't normally a violent person, but she supposed she could make an exception now. Her well-placed Exploding Hex nearly beheaded a slower Death Eater who wasn't able to dodge. An uncharacteristic flare of heat and adrenaline shot through her at hearing his angry shout. Her feet pounded against the ground, legs pumping harder than they ever had before. Her lungs were frozen with either fear or excitement, she couldn't tell which; her lightheadedness had disappeared in the heat of the battle. Hogwarts was crumbling around her as black robed figures swooped through the halls. Red, green, blue lights flew over head. Stone exploded at her feet and someone cackled wickedly from behind her. Blood stained the floor red and she made a face of disdain at the laughing man in front of her. There a body slumped on the floor at his feet, clothes tainted and dirty, and she was willing to bet whoever it was had died only a few moments ago. There was pain in her thighs and calves from running for so long, but still, she stood on her trembling legs and faced him. She recognized his face from the Wanted posters that were plastered all over the _Daily Prophet_ and her father's magazine. His name might have started with a C; she couldn't remember anything else, but she thought he might've been a regular practitioner of blood magic.

He shouted a curse she didn't recognize and without thinking she dodged and sent out three or four more hexes in retaliation. They didn't land, he was too good to let them, but her _protego _held up remarkably well against some darker incantations that she didn't doubt wouldn't have killed her if they had touched her.

"WATCH OUT!" a voice screamed near her ear, and two rough hands shoved her to the floor followed by a solid body falling on top of her. A green light flashed over both of their heads and Luna blinked up at the strange boy who had pushed her.

"Thanks," she said politely. Say what you liked about Luna Lovegood, but never let it be said she wasn't gracious to those who'd earned it.

"No problem," the boy answered as he stood and pulled her up by the hand. She looked over him curiously. Eyes blue like electricity looked over her, from her blood-splattered school-girl skirt to her wand clenched in her delicate-looking hands and curly blond hair inquisitively; he had a bold, serious face with a masculine nose and a heavy brow. He was rather good looking with tidy hair cut military style and a muscular build. He held a peculiar double edged sword that glinted gold in the bad lighting; she could see faint drips of blood falling to the floor from the metal.

"What's your name?" she asked.

"I'm Jason. You?"

"Luna." They stood there, eyeing each other and weighing the other's worth.

"Witch?"

"Yeah. Demigod?"

"Sorta. I'm Roman. Son of Jupiter." He gave a sheepish, albeit proud half-smirk.

"That's rather impre—_PROTEGO_!" She cut herself off, and a shimmery red shield was erected to block the tongue of flame that some cowardly DE had sent at them. She watched and winced as Jason lunged at the man with his sword. He promptly stabbed at the man; red spurted from the deep wound and the Death Eater keeled over, twitching violently. Luna hesitantly edged over to his side, looking disgustedly down at the man at their feet.

"Like I was saying," she continued, "Son of Jupiter: rather impressive."

Jason looked at her oddly before giving a weird smile. "C'mon," he said. "Wanna kick some Death Eater butt with me?"

"Hmmm." Her brow wrinkled in contemplation. "Maybe."

"Heh. You're a weird one, you know?"

"Thank you," she said graciously.

.

.

.

Harry had to keep reminding himself as he stood there without Hermione and Ron that this was all part of the plan.

_[No, seriously, it was. It wasn't exactly supposed to be a simple, Escape-Plan-For Dummy's sort of thing; the usual sneak-through-sneak-over-sneak-away-before-you-get -caught kinda deal—no. Just no. Nothing's ever that simple with Harry's luck]._

_[Harry couldn't help but wonder whether it actually would work out the way they wanted it to in the end]._

Rodolphus Lestrange smiled almost indifferently at them, heavy black robes shifting slightly as he brandished his wand lazily. It wasn't as if they could just run past him. One flick of that thing in his hand and they'd be halfway to hell, Harry realized grudgingly.

"It seems like I overestimated you three. You know, I actually thought you would be smarter than this. Trying to break out of one of the most fortified Wizard Manors in Britain—not a very intelligent move, Potter." He smirked, tapping his chin with his wand. "Now. What exactly am I going to do with you three?"

At that exact moment, a blur of white and black slammed in Lestrange's side. Shocked, the wizard fell, the tip of his wand already lighting up with a curse before the person wrestling him to the floor roughly ripped it out of Lestrange's hands and threw it across the room. Fists slammed into the wizard's temples, and the man let out a strangled yelp of pain. Lestrange struggled for a minute before the repeated blows eventually knocked him unconscious.

Sanguini stood, not looking the slightest bit out of breath from the vicious scuffle before spitting on the battered man at his feet. "Filth," the vampire sneered.

Harry made a face as he moved away from the doorway of the dungeon. He looked around discretely—it appeared they were in a flashy main Hall with gilded mantles and large fireplaces. There were multiple doors around the walls; no doubt, they led to more mazes of corridors.

They had to find the correct hallway that led to the exit—whatever spell that had been cast in Nico's cell had been applied to the rest of the manor as a safety precaution. The lack of shadows underneath their feet said as much. Harry frowned. This was a set-back, but it wasn't one that he hadn't expected. As evil and as wretched as Death Eaters were, they could be clever buggers when they wanted to be. With Voldemort as a leader, Harry didn't expect anything less. He knew that if they stumbled across the Dark Lord in this mansion, they might as well kiss their lives goodbye. Voldemort wasn't about to take any chances anymore—before he had basically let Harry get away when the bastard, in his arrogance, tried to make a big deal out of Harry's killing; a show, to make an example of him and to crush the Order of the Phoenix's spirit. Now, though, he probably just wanted the Boy-Who-Lived dead, no whats or ifs about it.

The rest of the group was already up the stairs in the time that Harry had been brainstorming. Hecate was slung over Nico's shoulder because this was, naturally, the worst time for her to be unconscious—the world was out to get the lot of them, of course. Percy was gallantly supporting Thalia on his shoulder, who kept snarling at him whenever he tried or offered to carry her. Leo just stood there, looking mildly bored.

"Okay, people, this way," Sanguini prodded, striding down a randomly chosen hallway.

"Wait, how do you know that this is the right way?" asked Nico as he jogged up to join the vampire.

"This is the only way that actually has fresh air through it. I'm guessing we're on the ground floor with windows cursed and locked like Azkaban itself. There's no way a draft would get through unless there was an open door." Sanguini sped up the pace, almost nervously.

Thalia gave an irritated huff from behind. "Could you slow down a little bit, please? Some of us are a little incapacitated at the moment."

"I'll slow down when we get out of this hellhole, how about that?" the vampire sniped.

Harry watched this exchange with a growing sense of unease. There was something tightening in the air that wasn't just from the pressure of being in a metaphorical bottomless pit. Tension flared up.

"Wait, what about our weapons?" Leo interrupted.

"What about them?" Sanguini raised an eyebrow.

"What about them?" Percy sputtered indignantly. "We need them, that's what! They're probably the only defense we actually have against trigger-happy wizards, so I'd be a whole lot more comfortable if we managed to get those before we escaped."

"We don't have time to go gallivanting all over this mansion searching for a couple of replaceable weapons, now do we? You can get new ones when the moment presents itself," Sanguini finalized.

The demigods bristled and Hermione made a wincy face at Ron.

"I knew we shouldn't have left the escape plan to the undead vampire," Ron griped, rolling his eyes to the ceiling.

Nico glared steadily before opening his mouth. "You think you can replace our swords. You can't. You wouldn't know, you're not a demigod, but it'd be like leaving behind your strength or your intelligence. You're defenseless and naked. We need our weapons."

His cousins nodded in grim agreement.

"I don't know about you but I'm not leaving 'til I get my baby back," Leo said firmly.

"My Prince, are you certain—" Sanguini began.

"Yeah. I'm pretty sure." He gave the vampire a solid glare just to get his point across.

"Hmmm. Let the wizards find them for you, then. I'll have no part of this suicide mission," Sanguini sniffed delicately before stepping back. "My apologies," he added to Nico.

Harry rolled his eyes. "I doubt they would have protection charms on weapons you shouldn't have been able to even think about, let alone steal." He waved his wand lightly. "Do you call them a specific name or…?"

He managed to summon them very quickly after having very descriptive insights on what they looked like and had to literally dodge to the side when the demigods bodily flung themselves at him to get to their swords. He shook his head in exasperation and wondered whether it was like a wand for a wizard. He raised an eyebrow when Leo triumphantly emerged from the dog pile with what looked like a plunger's utility belt.

"My baby," he crooned as he buckled it around his waist before reaching into a pocket and pulling out a _huge_ mallet hammer and cuddling up to it. "Daddy's sorry he went away, he missed you very much, yes he did!"

Hermione exchanged a glance with Harry and he just shrugged. Leo could be weird sometimes.

They had to run halfway down the hallway when they realized they had tripped a curse that caused a signal to shoot up to a group of Death Eaters upstairs. When the black cloaks started flooding the hallway and blood started flowing, in more ways than one, they knew they had to get out of there. Nico had it rough, seeing as he had both himself and Hecate to protect, but he managed as best as he could. There weren't so many Death Eaters that they could surround and overpower them, but there were enough to put up a real fight; a real, ugly, bruising, bloody fight that left him shaking and weak from crucios.

A large hand clamped around his shoulder and he blinked, clinging to both his sword and Hecate when he was abruptly pulled away from the DE he was battling. He looked up at Sanguini and winced when the Death Eater that tried to follow him suddenly exploded. He looked to Harry, whose wand was smoking and whose face was pale.

"What…?" he exclaimed. "That was supposed to be an _expelliarmus!"_

"It's Hecate," the vampire said grimly as he pulled both of them away from the fray. "She's unbalanced, unstable. And your magic, in turn, is as well."

Ron popped up next to them. "That explains when I tried to curse one of these gits, he fell asleep instead." Hermione was standing next to him all of a sudden. She brushed a bit of hair out of her face and gave him a look. "We gonna get going any time soon?" she asked.

Leo and Thalia stumbled into them, blood streaming down their faces. Luckily, none of it was theirs. "Percy's gone cray-cray!" Leo gasped, staring at where the son of Poseidon was taking out his fury on some poor sap on the wrong side. "We need to get outta here before he decides to blow this place apart!"

They watched for a moment as the half-blood sliced through the crowd like a tornado of celestial bronze and shaggy black hair. And then, they got distracted when a bunch of wizards decided to attack them all at once. Hermione managed to save them by producing a shield that would've resembled _protego_ had the shield charm originally produced a barrier of flowers. As it was, most of the harmful spells the Death Eaters were attempting seemed to have the opposite effect on their opponents. Instead of killing curses and the Crutatius Curse, cheering charms and color manipulation spells bounced off of them.

There were some advantages of Hecate being unconscious.

"Okay, enough!" Nico griped when a stray wizard's spell hit him the face in the form of a dozen rubber ducks. He sliced at the man, not really looking to see if his aim was actually true before he ducked around the rest of the moving, squirming people around him and caught Thalia and Percy fighting side by side, her Medusa shield glinting in the dim light, his sword glittering.

He tapped his sword against the ground and the floor rumbled underneath his feet. It shook angrily for a second before the foundation split open, cracking along the hall, dragging down unsuspecting Death Eaters with it. He could hear their screams as they fell to Hades and he gave a happy little smile.

The hands of skeletons, the bones picked and white, clutched at the edge of the pit, pulling up the bodies of decayed people, their old, 18th century and onward clothing ripped and frayed. Their skulls were frightful, white bone pulled into permanent, parodies of what smiles were like. Nico was used to them, but he supposed wizards weren't, seeing as they all freaked out, all screaming and flailing limbs when they appeared. He smirked and clapped a dead hippy on the back, his hand coming away with crumbling purple vest. "Go get 'em, boys," he said. And when an undead princess in a moldy green dress glared at him with empty sockets, he added "And girls."

He smirked as his lovely little creations fell onto the Death Eaters like hungry dogs, creating the perfect distraction.

He cupped his hands around his mouth to amplify his voice. "Okay, c'mon people, let's get moving!" Sanguini and the demigods picked up right where they left off, hoisting their weapons into more comfortable positions and joining rank around Nico. The three wizards had to stare and gape for a moment or two before they got their bearings back.

"Could you do that the entire time we were here?" Harry asked, sounding more exasperated than irritated.

"Yeah," Nico yawned, his jaw cracking. "It just makes me really… _ahem_… tired so I don't do it often." He swayed slightly. "Just watch; I'mma go to sleep now." And with that, he fell forward, the ground rushing up to meet him.

**Booka: *hides behind wall* I'm so ashamed. I'm so, so sooo sorry, you guys. **

**Audience: *throws cinderblocks* Boo!**

**Booka: Real life's a real female dog, ya know? School, school, school, weddings, new baby in the family, school, school, homework, practice viola, new obsessions, TV, reading fanfiction, school, school, homework, new baby in the family, baby shower, cousins, aunts, school, school, school and did I mention school?**

**Leo: Yes, you did. Multiple times. **

**Nico: …**

**Booka: And don't even get me started on this guy. *points to Nico* He's been giving me the silent treatment for like two months. And, crap, has it been that long since I've updated? **

**Leo: She's been a little distracted lately. We think she caught ADHD from spending too much time with Percy. **

**Booka: …**

**Leo: …**

**Booka: I won't even… I can't, I'm sorry, Leo but sometimes you're really dense. I've been developing new fanfiction ideas and typing like crazy, but not… on this one. **

**Audience: BOOO!**

**Booka: Yikes! Tough audience. I hope you like the chapter. If you think about it, it's not even a cliffhanger. **

**Nico: It totally is, don't even deny it. **

**Leo: Hey, maybe if you leave a review, she might not be a complete idiot and leave the chapter sitting on her hard-drive for 2 months until she starts and finishes it in two days.**

**Booka: …**

**Leo: …**

**Booka: Leo, I will castrate you. I swear I will.**

**Nico: *smirks***

**Booka: I CAN'T BELIEVE YOU JUST SAID THAT TO ALL OF THESE BLOOD-HUNGRY READERS! FOR ZUES'S SAKE, LEO! DO YOU KNOW WHAT THEY'LL DO TO ME? THEY'RE GOING TO TIE ME UP AND FEED ME TO THE HELLHOUNDS! MY FREAKING LORD, LEO! Sdsjdbaidbvfisebwefibwf *faints***


	22. When In Hell

**Disclaimer: Not mine!**

While Nico was asleep, he was looking into Hell.

Hades was sitting in his throne room, settled on his seat made of bones, draped in his silken robes. His fingers were steepled under his chin, eyes dark and worried.

Thanatos, an angelic figure with shimmering wings and pretty eyes, was scribbling something on a notepad next to him, a calculator held in his other hand. He punched something in on the buttons before nodding sharply.

"They won't make it," the angel said. "There's a 99.99995% possibility that Perseus will survive but your son's and the other demigods' chances don't look very good."

Hades's mouth curled into a displeased grimace. "And the Boy-Who-Lived?"

Thanatos punched in more numbers. "He'll be captured and placed back in his cell, but in a few hours Voldemort will kill him as well."

"I can't have the Poseidon spawn live while my son dies." Hades rubbed his chin thoughtfully. "The Fates have anything to say on the subject?"

Thanatos shoved his hand into his pocket before fishing out what looked like a grey envelope before he popped it open. "'Intervene,'" he read aloud. "Think they're tryin' to tell us something?"

Hades gave a groan before rolling his eyes and snapping his fingers. "Fine," he gritted out. "I'll help the little maggots."

He looked up, his black eyes boring into Nico's own. "When you get down here," he growled "You better come and talk with me first."

…

When Nico woke, it was to him lying in the back of a car—probably a Jeep, judging by the size. He heard screaming from the front and as he struggled to stand, he could feel a swell of some sort of force lifting him up and suddenly, he wasn't lying on the floor anymore, he was floating near the ceiling, disconnected and terrified. And then he crashed back down with a grunt, his knees and forearms connecting with the floor before the rest of him did.

His mind caught up before his body did. His dad had probably cracked open the ground under the car in his efforts to 'help'. He'd done this before once, sending Nico literally crashing down into the Underworld, but he hadn't expected him to do it to his friends, who'd never experienced nearly falling to their deaths before.

The screaming had died down, so Nico stood up and slumped on the car seat next to him. And, indirectly flattened Harry's head.

Harry's face was pale and Nico could see the gleam of sweat around the boy's forehead. His throat was trembling. "What was that?" Harry whispered.

"That was my loving father," Nico growled, straightening more, his muscles protesting against the movement.

"Where's Sanguini?" he asked, frowning. The vampire wasn't anywhere in the area, from what Nico could see.

"Disappeared as soon as you fainted," Harry answered, shrugging.

Nico rolled his eyes. He wasn't surprised. Vampires were known for their self-preservation skills—like Slytherins.

He heard the familiar sound of Percy's I-hate-the-gods-seriously groan. "Where in Hades are we?"

"We _are_ in Hades, Fishhead," Nico said, glancing out the window dismissively. "Near the fields of Asphodel, if I'm right." He tilted his head, listening to the wails of the damned. "Hum. The part next to the Fields of Punishment, if I'm going by the screams." He popped open the door, to Hermione's dismay.

"If we're in hell, then why the _heck_ are you getting out of the car?!" she hissed.

He raised an eyebrow. "Because my dad is the King of Hell, obviously; it's not like there's anything to be afraid of here, sheesh." He rolled his eyes at their incredulous expressions. He dusted his pants off and shifted his feet in the fluffy ash he was stepping on. Phooey. He actually liked these sneakers, even if they were white. (*shudder*).

He was better off than Harry, Hermione and Ron though, as they were barefoot from being snatched from their beds at night. He'd had barely enough time as it was shoving his feet into his shoes before the Death Eaters barged into the dorm. Thalia, Leo and Percy had on standard combat boots, so it wasn't as if they had a problem. Hecate was still out cold, so Percy had the unfortunate job of supporting her while they walked.

"Why can't we just use the Jeep?" asked Leo grumpily from where he was giving Thalia a piggy back ride. "It'd be easier than trekking through Hades."

"Mortal tech doesn't work down here," Nico answered nonchalantly. "It's something called sacredness." He made a face. "Speaking of the car, where the heck did it come from?"

Ron and Leo traded a discreet look.

"Ron dropped Hecate while we were running," Thalia said nonchalantly. "The bush she landed in went all glowy and turned into a Jeep."

"…You're kidding me right. You're kidding me."

Harry shrugged. "I don't know why you're so upset. The Big Man Upstairs likes laughing at me too. I learned to deal with it."

The hike through Hell wasn't as bad as many of the group expected it to be. The demigods and wizards all kept out their weapons, expectedly, except for Nico who knew not one thing in the Underworld would dare approach them unless they had a suicide wish. But, other than the rather unsettling Cerberus who calmed down after Nico obligingly tossed him a dog biscuit, the spooky ghosts loitering around and a few friendly, but rather grotesque skeletons waving at them, Hell was bizarrely peaceful—if you ignored the shrieks and moans of pain coming from the damned souls. Nico seemed to be having fun playing tour guide, pointing to the wizards where their section of the Underworld was after they passed Cerberus and went through the main entrance.

Nico had expected Harry to immediately go charging to find his dead relatives, but the Boy-Who-Lived was strangely wary. Nico said as much as they edged around a craggy outcropping near the River Styx.

"I—um," Harry stuttered when Hermione shot him a questioning look. "It's not like I don't want to… it's just—they're gone and I know that if I see them… I'll never wanna come back up." His expression darkened and Nico wondered when the boy-wizard had become so mature. Maybe he always had been and the time Nico had spent with him was overshadowed with other students and their naivety, not Harry's.

They skirted around the Fields of Punishment—Nico knew from experience that Leo's stomach wasn't all that he bragged it was and Thalia didn't like emotional trauma all that much. Plus, Nico doubted Percy and the wizards would be able to stand the torture his father permitted, over-emphatic people that they were.

They reached Hades's palace about a half-an-hour in, and Nico took pride in the stunned looks on the faces of the wizards and Leo, who'd never been in the Underworld before. Thalia and Percy just looked unsettled and restless. The castle was made out of black and bronze stone, cast in reddish shadows from the hellfire that burned on the gates surrounding it. The cobblestone path was hard and unforgiving beneath their feet as they trotted towards the castle.

"Wow," Harry breathed. "So this is it, then? Your home?"

Nico's mouth twitched with what either could've been amusement, bitterness or maybe a combination of the two. "Something like that, yeah," he finally said, staring up at the flickering flames atop the spiky gates. He tapped his sword against one of the rungs and they laboriously opened, giving just the right amount of groans and squeaks to invoke fear.

They padded through the frightening entrance and they gaped at the huge doors, almost as big as the ones at Hogwarts.

As they wandered through the halls, Harry asked "What's your dad like?" His voice was honestly curious.

Nico shrugged. "Cruel. Manipulative. He's a busy man, but he respects his promises to the letter." He sneered. "He won't hesitate to find a loophole though."

"You make him sound like a lawyer," Harry laughed.

The son of Hades took a minute to think on that, resting his long sword over one shoulder. He looked tempted to agree but he said instead "Not really," and Harry remembered they were in Hades's field. This wasn't the place to be making jokes about the Lord of the Underworld. With that in mind, Harry clamped his mouth shut and his hands twitched nervously.

They winded through the hallways for a few more minutes before they came to another pair of large doors, this time crafted out of silver and onyx. Nico tapped the smooth surface and ripples, glossy and cold, spread throughout the material before the entrance slowly rumbled and parted for them. A cool blast of air washed over them, a relief from the warm, soupy air of the Underworld. The reprieve didn't last long, however, once they entered.

The entrance hall was dimly lit, a few tiny candles straining to provide light in what Harry would've called a creepier, more demented version of Hell, shadows flickering at the edge of the room, trembling as Nico passed. Bones, cleanly picked and whitened, hung from the ceiling like decorative wind-chimes, swaying and actually chattering as they walked underneath.

Hades sat at the end of the long, rectangular room, perched on a throne of bones; his dark robes were swirling with what looked like faint, grayed faces woven into the material, their profiles twisted in agony. A grotesque, pearly human skull grinned down at them from above his head, seated at the top of the throne. His fingers were steepled underneath his pointed chin, dark swirling eyes sliding over the group coolly. He could've either been contemplating their death or wondering whether they were failing History of Magic, the God was that detached.

Harry glanced between him and Nico, recognizing the similarities between the two; the white skin, the pitch-black eyes, the aristocrat facial features. But Hades was older, crueler, with longer, thicker hair and more hallow eyes that looked half-mad and half-genius. Nico, in a way, was more innocent-looking despite every single hell-damned thing he'd been through. Something told Harry, in a cool whisper, that this man was more powerful than any wizard could ever hope to be,

Harry started when Percy and Thalia both gave short, stiff bows, their eyes hardening with resentment.

But Hades was ignoring them. Instead, he was looking at Harry.

The boy-wizard could feel the nerves making his hands tremble—the God was looking at him like how Ron looked at a piece of pie at dinnertime. He bowed uncertainly, hiding behind the dark curtain his bangs made.

"The-Boy-Who-Lived," said Hades and Harry could tell that the man's voice was deeper and louder than Nico's—older. "I didn't ever expect you to show up here in the Underworld, let alone my Palace." His thin mouth twisted into a sneer. "You've caused a lot of stress down here, boy."

Harry started when Nico laid a hand on his shoulder.

"Father," he said. "You know it wasn't his fault."

Hades sniffed slightly, eyeing them in an almost irritated way. "Yes, I'm sure it wasn't," the man countered dryly. "And neither was the paperwork that the Fates piled on me the night he should've died."

Nico shrugged, cool despite the tension that seemed to twine quietly through the room. "You want someone to blame, take it out on them, why don't you? After all, they planned the entire thing out anyways, without telling you."

Hades gave a quiet snarl and the shadows seemed to strain upwards at his annoyance. "You know as well as I do that they're off limits," he spat, his eyes flaring dangerously.

"Which is exactly why we should concentrate on giving Voldemort a reason to feel sorry for himself," Percy grumbled quietly, his eyes almost rolling in his head from glancing around the room so quickly. His arms were clutched around Hecate, her head drooping over one shoulder.

Hades's gaze switched quickly to him and Percy made a face at the man, who gave him an unimpressed look.

"What," Percy said flatly. "We all know it's his fault there's been so much—"

"Percy," Thalia interrupted, glaring. "Remember that little heart to heart we had two years ago? About not _talking in the Underworld?"_

The son of Poseidon gritted his teeth and didn't answer.

Ron and Hermione were watching this like a ping-pong game, their necks snapping from person to person.

"You came here for a reason, didn't you?" snapped Hades, glaring at Nico. "I told you never to visit me if it wasn't absolutely necessary."

Harry's jaw tightened and his expression turned a bit more sinister than it had before. Harry had never liked fathers who were nasty to their children. Lucius Malfoy, Bartemius Crouch Sr. and Tom Riddle Sr. were among the people he held the most disdain for.

"You told me to come down and talk," Nico gritted out. "Remember?"

Hades looked disinterested. "Yes," he said finally. "I recall now." He sat up, almost jerking slightly. "The demigods are here, in the Underworld. They've set up a base on the outskirts of the Fields of Asphodel." He cast the group a baleful look. "They've been in and out of here for the past few hours. The castle, Hogwarts, has been under siege for almost a day."

Harry lurched at that, his eyes wide. "What?" and then he remembered that when he was abducted, there had been other students in the room.

"Oh my God," he said. "Oh my God, we need to go back!"

"Obviously," Nico agreed quickly, beginning to herd the group away from Hades and out the doors before anyone could say anything. "We'll get right onto that, thanks a lot, Father."

The God only said "Leave Hecate on the floor, if you would, Perseus," but otherwise, he didn't reply, only waved his hand as the door shut behind them.

…

"What the hell was that?" asked Percy as they charged from the hall towards the gates.

Nico didn't answer, only pushed Harry to move faster.

"Man," sighed Percy as they slowed to a jog. "Look, I get you and your daddy don't have the perfect relationship, but are you sure he wouldn't want to help with the fighting? I mean, he did come clean with the whole Kronos thing a few years ago, so why not now?"

"I don't think we want to get anymore gods involved in this," Hermione argued, her breaths coming in short pants. "I mean, look at what happened to Hecate? What do you think would happen if they managed to capture Zeus or Poseidon?"

"Excuse me?" snapped Thalia. "I'm pretty sure the only reason Hecate got kidnapped was because she's too frickin' stup—"

"DON'T FINISH THAT SENTENCE!" Ron interrupted loudly. "If she hears that, she'll mess with our magic! Again!"

"Yeah, well, the first time wasn't on purpose, right?" Leo said, rolling his eyes. "She was unconscious."

"Yeah, well, the Gods are finicky," Nico muttered softly. "You never know what they'll do next."

The trek was quiet after that, tension winding around Nico's shoulders, weighing them down. He refused to look at the group, eyes fixed on the plumes of smoke that were rising in the air from the Fields of Punishment.

"Relax," Leo told him as Nico hunched his shoulders. "We're gonna be fine."

Nico shook his head. Something told him there was Hell to go through yet.

**Booka: Okay, so it's a little late. I had my New York Regents to finish up before I could really get into the writing zone, alright? **

**Leo: On the bright side, school's out, so expect some faster updates. **

**Nico: *sniffs* Yeah, right. **

**Booka: I'm going to Florida tomorrow to visit my extended family and the internet over there is kinda iffy, so expect some random time-updates once we get there. **

**Leo: On the plus side, she aced her Earth Science Regent! 96 percent, baby! Woohoo!**

**Nico: Congrats. *cracks whip* Now, back to work, girl!**

**Booka: *runs away* NEVER!**

**Nico: GET BACK HERE! *runs after her***

**Leo: Aw, young'uns these days. Always fighting. Hopefully some reviews will help boost her writing moods. *wink, wink, hint, hint***


	23. Give A Little

**Disclaimer: Not mine… *throws self off cliff***

Pain was ripping into his side, blood gushing onto his fingers as he tried to stem the flow. He dragged himself across the stone floor, away from where he knew his opponent lay, already dead to the world in more ways than one. He groaned, noise muffled underneath the sounds of clashing metal and screams of the battlefield. He was filthy, dirt smudged across his face and red staining his clothes. Agony throbbed through him and although the Cruciatus Curse was one spell he'd always been deathly afraid of, he knew it couldn't concentrate so much pain into one area on a single body. If he could liquidize this type of ache and sell it in a bottle, he'd make a fortune in Knockturn.

"Neville!" he heard a familiar voice call, but he wanted to ignore it so badly and just drift. He was already dead, so why couldn't they just leave him alone?

Hands, small but firm, pushed against his side and he choked on the scream of agony that burned in his throat as he was rolled onto his back, the cold of the floor seeping into his clothes.

Luna's face, white with worry and nausea, slid into focus above him. "Oh, Neville," she said sadly, and she tapped her wand shakily on his stomach, right next to the bleeding wound. He cried out as it closed, the skin mending and melting right back together as the throbbing dulled into a buzzing ache. His heartbeat roared in his ears and he looked up at her, mouth slack with relief.

His head felt slightly clearer as she handed him a little vial filled with golden liquid.

"What's this?" he slurred, uncorking the thing as he spoke with fumbling fingers.

"Nectar," said a new voice, accompanied by a serious, sharp-looking face. Blond hair stuck to a broad forehead slick with sweat and blood. "It's to help with the blood-loss."

Neville tossed it back halfheartedly, nearly choking in surprise on the flavor of sweetened apples and honey; it tasted like the ones his Gran cut up on a rainy day before handing it to him, saying it'd help stay his appetite till supper.

"Godly drink," continued the blonde boy. "Tastes like a memory, usually a happy one."

"Yeah," echoed Neville, already feeling newer, cleaner energy drench his muscles. Adrenaline began pounding in his ears, an ache for battle settling around his temples.

His wand was pressed back into his hands and Luna's grey eyes were sharper than Neville had ever seen them.

"Ready?" she asked, even though she already knew the answer.

"Hell yes," he said, standing up on feet that should've been wobbly, should've been hesitant. His steps were even, unlike his breathing, which trembled and stuttered, like he'd been running all this time. A _bombarda_ left his wand and blasted a wizard away from the blonde boy before his mind could catch up with his body.

It was like they were in the bad part of Hell. Blood was spattered on the stone walls, bodies—not all of them Death Eaters—lay prone on the floor, glass from broken windows lying around haphazardly.

It was Chaos.

But Hogwarts was putting up a fight. He saw a couple of the Weasleys as he fought, little flashes of red hair and enraged blue eyes. A long red mane told him Ginny had snuck up on a collective group of Death Eaters with a few of her Year Mates, the clever girl.

_Stupefys_ and _reductos_, curses and charms, they all blended together, colors blinding him as he fought. He avoided the green curses and the yellow ones, not willing to risk them if they happened to be an Unforgivable. The faces of his opponents bled together, all snarling and spitting, wild and evil, all eventually defeated at his feet. He watched the blond boy, _Jason_, Luna had called him, slice apart a man with a sword and he flinched away from the flying drops of blood, moving away.

The teachers were less than forgiving to the Death Eaters, and Neville often saw the Professors viciously combating with the Dark Wizards, spells flying and blurring, with extreme prejudice.

"We need to get the littler Years to safety," murmured Luna and impossibly Neville heard her over the clamoring noise and screams. "Most of them have already been shipped down to the Underworld."

Neville stared. "You consider that safe?"

Luna smiled plainly. "Safer than here, Neville." Her voice was light and dreamy as she threw another combustion hex at an unlucky Death Eater.

"Yeah," he echoed, sighing. "Safer than here."

…

It was a cacophony of sounds, noises and flashing lights, and it stunned Nico momentarily, not moving as he drank it all up.

He snapped out of it when Percy blundered past him, screaming a dramatic battle cry as he leapt into the middle of it, sticking a Dark Wizard as he did.

"Idiot," Thalia said amusedly as she sashayed into the fight, her bow drawn, already letting loose an arrow and watching as it sank into the side of an unfortunate wizard.

Nico already had his Stygian sword unsheathed, wavering on the sidelines before cutting into an unexpected Harpy.

Looking up from the disintegrating corpse, he saw Greek monsters flooding through the doors of Hogwarts, all snarling teeth and dripping saliva no matter their species. The Hellhounds that bounded into the Great Hall stopped abruptly when they caught sight of a scowling offspring of Hades. They whimpered like puppies before crawling forward on their stomachs and with a sharp glance they were attacking their handlers, the masked wizards and more sentient, more terrifying beings that had led them in. He heard their screams as they were cut down where they stood and he popped in his earplugs, grinning wildly.

They stopped the noise and he was free to do as he wished.

_Empousai_ growled at him and he watched absentmindedly as they flashed from pretty, alluring models to bloodthirsty vampires with one goat leg and one metal leg. Of course, he could only watch for so long until he had to stab at them with his sword and shake off the golden dust they disintegrated into.

He turned, catching the attention of a low-ranking Death Eater and he smirked viciously, tilting his head like a considering lion before he pounced. His fighting was quick, calculated and biting in its ferocity. He didn't play defense, _nosiree_, he was cutthroat and cold, almost detached.

He met Harry's eye across the Great Hall as he moved, wrestling, into the connected hallways, slashing and stabbing with effort. With the earplugs in, it was all a little surreal, seeing the spark of metal against spell, seeing the burst of golden monster dust, but hearing no clashing or roars of pain or anger.

Harry was shooting off spells from his wand like bullets from a gun, giving no relief to the Death Eaters, but Nico could see his hesitance at the same time. His green eyes were dark, angry almost, but they were worried too and sympathetic. Poisonously bright colors splashed over the floors, hitting the walls and Nico had to look away before he blinded himself.

He felt a touch on his shoulder and Luna was lucky he recognized the smell of radishes and lavender, otherwise he might've cut off one of her limbs.

That wouldn't have been good.

"Hey," he shouted to her, the sound muted to his blocked ears.

She smiled at him, eyes sparking. "Where's Professor Dumbledore?" she mouthed.

Nico looked at her, expression beginning to darken. He pushed Luna over to an abandoned alcove, partially protected from flying hexes and hostile eyes, popping out his earplugs as soon as they were protected. Sounds washed over him, screams and yells, but he ignored them. He scanned the corridors, and not seeing any unsightly robes or unnaturally powerful spells, he swore.

"Language," Luna admonished, her voice only just loud enough to hear.

"It's a trap," Nico growled, eyes wild.

"What?" Neville appeared at their shoulders, hair mussed and face dirt-streaked.

"It's a trap!" Nico yelled, voice cracking. "We're the distraction—he's not here for Hogwarts, he's here for Dumbledore!"

Neville stared, bewildered, before "But—why? I thought…"

"Doesn't matter," the demigod spat. "Where is he? Where's Dumbledore?"

"I—I dunno, he was with us at the beginning of the battle. It was so scary; you should've seen it… Last I saw, h-he was heading up to his office."

"Dammit," Nico said as he began to move, dragging Luna behind him. He was jostled by the fighting wizards and monsters and he blocked the blows aimed their way. He could hear Neville stumbling behind them, huffing and shooting off spells that blurred unnervingly close to them.

They scrambled desperately through the halls, pushing away the Death Eaters that tried to stop them, spitting and yelling, throwing curses around like they were harmless.

When they reached the gargoyle, it was already moved from the staircase, lying on its side and two of its legs blown into crumbly pieces of stone. It looked at them defeatedly before laying its head back on the ground and grumbling.

Nico wasn't sad to see it go. He still hated automatons, but the thing looked pathetic, man.

He bolted up the stairs, letting go of Luna's wrist so he could run, feeling the anxiety twirl up his insides. He panted slightly as he reached the purple door, not bothering to knock as he cracked open the door violently, kicking with the sole of his foot.

Eyes like wine smirked at him from across the room as he scrambled to a halt, gripping his sword like it was a lifeline. He felt more than heard Luna and Neville come up to his shoulders behind him, heard their gasps, felt Neville grip his shoulder so tightly it was more likely to bruise than anything.

_Ironic, _Nico found himself thinking; _been fighting for how long now, and the only booboo I've gotten is from one of my friends. _

Voldemort was just as tall and skeletal as he'd been the last time Nico had seen him, but when he moved, Nico could see the spaced-desk through the man's transparent robes.

"Don't move," Nico said to Luna and Neville. "He's not really here; it's just an illusion."

Voldemort smiled, his bloodless lips twisting. The illusion was seated on the Headmaster's desk and that little nuance made Nico's insides roil with anger. His legs looked like they were crossed under his lengthy robes, his fingers steepled almost as a mockery to Dumbledore.

"Clever little demigod, aren't you?" the man said mildly, blood-eyes winking in the dim light.

Nico said nothing.

Voldemort's smirk melted, and his face sobered. "You're on the wrong side, little demigod," he said softly, his expression one of pity. "You will fall, just as your leader has."

"Harry isn't dead, though, so I don't know what you're talking about," Nico countered, throwing out an arm so Neville wouldn't step forward like it seemed he wanted to.

"You are a fool, Di Angelo, to speak the Chosen One's name in my presence," Voldemort continued, his voice low and calm. "The boy is nothing but a nuisance and you are not as clever as I believed should you choose to stand behind him. You could be so much more than just a pawn, Mr. di Angelo, if only you could see that."

"I know my loyalties, Lord Voldemort," Nico said quietly, eyes black as pitch. "And I know what's going to become of me when this war ends. Do you?"

"A fool and a pawn," Voldemort continued, as if he hadn't heard what'd just been said. "A useful one, but a pawn nonetheless. So unfortunate that you should die by my servants instead of my own hand. But a chess piece deserves a coward's death, yes?"

A roar, wild and feral, blasted against the trio's shoulders and they could feel and hear a heavy weight bounding up the stairway.

"I recognize that howl," laughed Voldemort, throwing his head back in hysteria. "Fenrir Greyback, the savage werewolf fugitive. A filthy, tainted creature, but a useful one, not unlike yourself, young demigod. He'll have your throats before you realize he's upon you; I don't envy you very much at all at the moment."

"Dumbledore," spluttered Neville, incoherent with both fear and determination. "Where did you take him—is he dead?"

Voldemort grinned viciously and his calm façade was destroyed completely now, eyes wild and hungry. "You do not need to worry about the Old Man anymore, don't fret, dear boy. We'll take very good care of him. You have my word." And the illusion shattered into thin, greenish ribbons of smoke that curled around the room.

Nico's arm broke through one of the wisps as he turned and pushed Neville and Luna behind him. He could feel the bangs of a heavy body slamming up against the purple door and he shuddered, slotting both his sword and his wand into separate hands. He felt his friends tensing near his shoulders and they all backed away quite quickly to the opposite side of the room.

When the door was finally kicked down, it splintered, sending sharp shards of splitting wood across the floor and into the air. A man stumbled inside with the force of his attack, all crazed, fevered blue eyes and snarling, spit-slicked maw. He had a mouthful of yellowed and blackened fangs, his features warped and wolfish, clothing torn and tight and dirt-streaked. He was ridiculously large, with thick arms and broadened shoulders, and—

Nico didn't have time to observe anymore because before he could process what was happening, the wolf-man had dropped to all fours and leaped at them with impossible speed and agility, howling lustily.

Luna shot off a Blasting Hex and the werewolf was forced to dodge, but it caught Greyback's ankle and a shriek of pain killed the air as bones and skin cracked.

Rage and anger swirled in Greyback before he leapt again and this time he managed to tackle Neville and they went down, scrabbling and fighting with each other. Luna and Nico couldn't help in case they hit Neville instead.

Neville shouted something indecipherable and Fenrir Greyback was thrown backwards from the boy, slamming his back on the far wall, snarling and yelping.

Not dead.

But that was okay, because Harry Potter, all flailing limbs and glowing green eyes, skidded into the room, sliding on bloody sneakers, cheeks and lips bloodless with vitriol.

A curse lit the tip of his wand, even though he said nothing, and they watched as it bloomed red and fiery before it bulleted into the werewolf's head, who howled angrily and spasmed before his neck was forced back and bent with a sickening crack. The man's body went frighteningly still and for a moment, the only sign he was still alive the mechanical 'up-down-up-down' of his barrel-chest.

"Shit," said Nico and Luna nodded agreeably.

"Language," Harry breathed roughly as he loosened his grip on his wand and dusted his bloody pajama shirt off. "What are you guys doing in here? The Death Eaters are retreating." His gaze darkened in worry at their roiling expressions.

"Dumbledore's dead," Nico intoned and Harry did an odd sort of spasm involving his arms and arched eyebrows.

"_What_," Harry said and Nico didn't have the heart (or the guts) to ask where the question marks had gone.

"Or, he's good as," Neville said morosely. "Voldemort sent a message." The boy could've been in better condition. He was freshly bruised, his face purpled and yellowed, and there were a couple scratches littered over his throat and hands, but nothing that would imply any lycan-infection.

Harry took a breath and closed his eyes. "C'mon," he said, instead of screaming like he looked like he wanted to. "We're trying to figure out who's missing and who's not." There was an odd blankness coming to his eyes and Nico felt a stab of sympathy that was accompanied by the cold sense of worry.

"Percy and Thalia?" he asked. "Leo?"

"They're all safe," Harry said, looking over Neville and Luna protectively. "Helping the teachers count up the students."

"Good."

"That Jason bloke's fine too; hell of a fighter, he is," Harry continued almost absentmindedly, rubbing the back of his neck as he took in the devastation of the office, so he didn't notice the sharp line of stress that Nico froze into.

"Jason," he said. "Jason, as in blond haired, wide shouldered, blue-eyed guy who can summon lightning with the flick of a finger?"

Harry hesitated. "Yeah, why? You know him?"

"Know him," Nico nodded, his eyes half-lidded and a demonic look taking over his face. "Love the guy, actually." His lips were twisting, so Harry couldn't tell whether that was Nico being ironic or truthful.

…

"Di Angelo," Jason said when Nico crept into the Great Hall, standing quietly in the giant arch of the doors. "Been looking for you, kid."

Nico's mouth gave a parody of a smile as he was wrought to do when annoyed or planning something devious. "Jason Grace," he purred instead of spitting in the Roman's face as he so wanted to do. "How nice of you to drop by. Didn't think you'd _ever_ come around to visit after that stunt you pulled in Budapest."

Jason shifted his weight, a grimace taking over his face. "You're still mad about that?" he asked, hesitant.

"Mad," laughed Nico, an insane glint coming to his eyes. "_Stupid-furious_ would be a better word. Maybe, the _wrath of a thousand suns_ would be a closer match."

"Look, I get it. You really wanted to kill that hydra—" Jason started, nervous.

"Oh, no," interrupted Nico, still smiling terrifyingly. "You don't get it. I didn't _want_ to kill the hydra. I _needed_ to kill that hydra. And for your information, that wasn't just a regular, wannabe-dragon, household hydra. That was a hydra my father specifically created for his offspring to _hunt down, kill, skin_ and _drag_ back to the Underworld." He stepped closer, eyes impossibly wide with fury. "That was a quest. And you, with your stupid hero-complex, decided you needed to interfere. That was a bad call."

Jason's face was screwed up with nerves and anger and a swirl of other emotions Nico didn't care to interpret.

"I was trying to help," Jason argued. "I don't understand why you're so—Zeus, you don't make sense."

"I didn't need help," snorted Nico and tossed his head back. "I had it all under control."

The son of Jupiter sighed nosily, his lips flapping. "Yeah, okay, I'm sorry." He roughly dragged a hand through sweat-spiked blond hair. "I shouldn't have tried to get involved. It wasn't…" His face took on an expression of displeasure. "It wasn't my business."

"Damn right it wasn't," grumbled Nico before looking over the taller demigod with considering eyes. "You look like crap."

He was sweaty and his skin was smudged and grubby, his clothes torn and ripped. His purple Camp Jupiter shirt was almost in shreds, leaking little drops of blood every now and then. His jeans were cut off at one knee, while the other had small tears going all the way up to his thigh. Nico sniffed the air and raised his eyebrows when he smelled ozone and sulfur.

"You been throwing lightning?" he said flatly.

Jason gave him a dry look. "What? You thought the only thing I'd do was stab 'em with my sword? Dude, those grave-munchers totally deserved every volt I chucked at them."

Nico smirked. The guy did have a point. So, he allowed his fellow demigod to throw an arm around his shoulders and tug him towards the rest of the inhabitants of the Great Hall, sobering at the sight of a small grouping of prone bodies on stretchers.

"How many?" he asked Jason blankly.

"Four or five students, two Order Members and three demigods," Jason answered, an expression of sadness coming to his normally stoic face. "The monsters didn't fight as hard as they could've, when they saw the Death Eaters losing. It could've been a lot worse."

Nico breathed slowly, closing his eyes. "Hades have mercy," he said grimly and he moved forward.

Harry was bent over the still body of Dedalus Diggle, closing the man's glossy eyes with a pained look to his face.

It occurred to Nico that less than twenty-four hours ago, Slughorn had been throwing a party. That less than twenty-four hours ago, the Great Hall had been decorated with flowers and silk instead of blood and corpses.

"They attacked after you all disappeared from the Dormitory," Neville said, next to Harry's shoulder. "We couldn't call the Aurors; Voldemort with more of his Death Eaters and the Giants took the Ministry." The boy's voice was bitter.

"You can't stay here," Nico said aloud. "He'll just come back with more forces until Hogwarts falls."

"Let them come," Harry said passionately, straightening, eyes burning.

"You'll die," Nico hissed and Harry drew back. "You'll die and then what? You're the only one who can kill him, Harry; you die and we're all dead, understand? Put aside your pride and do the responsible thing—it's not just about you and him anymore, it's you, him and the rest of Britain."

Harry frowned, but the angry-passion drained from his face, so Nico took it as a victory.

"Go," continued the son of Hades. "You can't be caught."

"What about the rest of the school?" Harry argued.

Jason spoke up, calmly. "They want you; the other kids don't really matter. We're gonna be moving the Muggleborn ones out as soon as you disappear. They won't think about touching the half- or whole-blooded kids—just the regular ones with the mortal-parents are endangered."

Harry still looked like he wanted to protest—

"He's right, Harry," Hermione's voice interrupted and they all turned to look at the tired-faced girl, her wand hanging limply at her side. "He's gonna come back."

"But, Hermione," he said.

"No," she said. "No, we have to. Me, you, Ron—Nico, if he wants to, because he knows about the _thing_ Dumbledore wanted us to take care of." She took a breath. "Go upstairs. Get the rest of the pensieve memories and any notes you can find. We're leaving Hogwarts, now, and we're not coming back."

Neville gave a sad sound and everyone turned to him. "I don't know what you're talking about," he said honestly. "Pretty sure I'm not supposed to, either, but if you guys ever needed anything for me or the DA, you know to ask for it."

Harry's somber expression lightened slightly and his lips curved into a small smile. "Thanks, Nev," he intoned, clapping the other boy's shoulder companionably.

Neville nodded before turning away and giving away.

Hermione grimaced to herself and mumbled "Already have the essential rations and clothes packed up—knew this was gonna happen eventually, just didn't think it'd be so soon," and they watched as she stepped quickly out of the Great Hall, her feet slapping purposefully against the floor as she moved.

"Damn," said Jason. "Does that girl think of everything?"

"Watch it, loverboy," said Nico. "Your anniversary with Piper's comin' up in a few weeks."

Jason shot him a look and didn't deign him with an answer.

…

Ron took the news quite well.

"Yeah," he sighed, pulling on a thick Muggle hoodie Hermione had shoved into his arms. "Thought as much. We were gonna have to go looking for them eventually, why not now?"

What he didn't take so well was the fact that Nico and Hermione hadn't actually been dating.

"…WHAT?!"

**Booka: Okay, so it's a li'l late, jeez, people. Calm down. **

**Nico: Maybe they'd be a bit more forgiving when you update late if you wouldn't DO IT EVERY SINGLE HADES DAMNED TIME!**

**Booka: …**

**Leo: …**

**Nico: *pants* Sorry. I had to get that off my chest. *walks away***

**Leo: He's a little touchy. But, the reason she's actually updating right now is pretty cool; it's Harry Potter's birthday today!**

**Booka: He's thirty-three years old!**

**Leo: Gettin' a li'l on in years there, aren't we, Potty?**

**Harry: *pops up* Hmm? Someone say my name? **

**Booka: Nope—Happy Birthday!**

**Everybody: SURPRISE!**

**Booka: Yeah, we threw a party. We're awesome like that. Plus, you review, you get a virtual slice of cake! And that aside, I just wanna thank everyone so damn much for spending precious time favoriting and reviewing. It makes me feel so awesome that people actually like the things I read, even if the plot is half-baked at best and I can't help but think the characters are ooc or whatever insecurities I have about my writing. **

**YOU GUYS ARE AWESOME!**


	24. Paper Doll

**Disclaimer: Do not own, probably never will. *sobs***

"_Hogwarts has fallen," _crackled the small radio perched near the cot. The announcer's voice broke and gasped with excitement. _"I repeat, Hogwarts has fallen; after nearly three days of fighting, He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named has conquered the only safe haven of—"_

"For goodness's sake," murmured Nico crossly, throwing his arm over his eyes. "Turn it off!" He slammed a pillow around his ears, grumbling underneath his breath. "They all just say the same thing. What's the point of listening to all of them…?"

Nico could _feel_ Ron glaring half-heartedly at him from across the tent, sitting on his sheeted bed. His hand was already on the dial, though and Nico sighed as the volume was lowered to a tolerable hum.

"Sorry," the redhead said.

"Honestly Ron," grunted Hermione's voice from the tiny kitchenette in the corner. "Stop turning on the stereo when Nico's getting his beauty sleep."

"S'not beauty sleep," Nico grumbled under his breath, burrowing underneath the covers. "Takin' a nap."

Hermione drawled out a response, but he didn't care to listen to her, sure there was a tease somewhere in her reply.

It had been three days since Nico, Hermione, Harry and Ron had made their getaway from war torn Hogwarts. Three, miserable days of backpacking through English forests and cool beaches and suspicious, Muggle cities. Three days of nothing but canned, spell-warmed dinners and soggy, corn beef sandwiches. Three days of praying, three days of hard sleeping cots, of cold nights and restless mornings.

Harry had been taking everything quite well, spending most of his time studying the Pensieve memories and replicating them with a curious spell found in the sheets of parchment Hermione had snatched from Dumbledore's office. He was scribbling notes in a dappled, Muggle notebook, mumbling things to himself that Nico didn't even try to understand. He looked like one of those insane teenage geniuses everybody heard about but no one knew, calculating equations and making a mess on the rickety desk Hermione had stuffed into the wizard tent.

Nico had to admit, this wizard tent was rather cool. Its furniture was a little frumpy, it having belonged to an old friend of Ron's father before he'd passed it along to the Weasley family; and subsequently the Golden Trio, plus Nico. There was a cushy, woolen couch settled on a raised platform and a carpeted floor, the kitchenette small and bare of all but the essentials. It had only an incredibly small gas stove, a tiny icebox and three measly cupboards.

They were traveling along almost continuously, trying to put distance between themselves and the Death Eaters. It'd only been three days, but they'd made a lot of progress.

"The locket's first," Harry said one evening, decidedly determined. "The locket first, then Hufflepuff's cup, then the snake, then Voldemort."

…

The boy was dressed in a cheap t-shirt and ripped jeans, his hair messy and dark, his eyes deep and green. A shopping cart was pushed in front of him, filled with canned foods, breads, snacks and water bottles. Nothing sugary or dessert like. They couldn't splurge on expensive candies with the war going on and the limited amount of Muggle and Magical money that they had.

The clerk was a bored, pimply teenager who didn't look up as he charged the boy a meager amount of money for his groceries.

It was a normal day in East Meadowcrest. The sky was gray and churning with clouds and many of the residents were holding umbrellas in case of an abrupt downpour. It was a hot, sticky afternoon and many inhabitants had to wipe their brows of sweat in order to feel even a bit comfortable. It was a dreary little village, with little to no animals and neat, identical houses all centered around the town hall and the local shopping mall.

Harry, for the boy with the cart was Harry Potter, was muttering to himself under his breath as he stepped out of the shop and into a large rain puddle. He jumped out and shook his trainers, wet droplets flying all over the place before he started to move again. His brow was furrowed as he took his grocery bags and quietly shrunk them to fit in his pocket. No one was looking his way, thankfully, and even if they had been, they probably would've thought it a trick of their eyes.

He was walking briskly down the street, going to return to the little, dirty alleyway Hermione had set the tent up in when a pair of men stepped into his way.

Harry screeched to a stop, instincts buzzing unhappily.

One of the men, a muscled skinhead with heavily tattooed arms and shoulders, said to him "New here, aren't you, boy?"

Harry looked at them, eyelids heavy and drooping, like he was tired. "Yes, sir," he mumbled, shoving a hand in his pocket and letting his fingers grasp cold wood.

His friend, a skinny man with stringy blond hair, smirked and giggled under his breath. "Ain't that cute, Maxy?" the man shrilled. "'E's got a posh way o' speakin', don't 'e?"

Harry licked his lips nervously. "Look, I don't want to cause any trouble," Harry began, but his eyes locked onto the larger one's hand; he saw it disappearing into a jacket pocket and Harry leapt away before he could finish.

"_CONFRINGO!" _the now identified wizard screamed.

The brick wall that had been behind Harry exploded violently into rubble and gravel, spraying bits of stone and flames onto the street.

Harry had been out of the way of the explosion, thank Merlin, and he skidded to a halt in the middle of the road, a curse on his tongue.

"_Petrificus Totalus!" _Harry screamed and he didn't stay to watch if it hit, scrambling away to warn the others. A Muggle stop sign only a few feet away from Harry warped unhappily, its metal post bending in half and screeching loudly. As he turned onto another street, he caught a glimpse of their blood-thirsty eyes and that propelled him forward faster.

A harsh crack met his ears and suddenly the tattooed Snatcher—because, it couldn't have been a Death Eater, no Dark Mark—was in front of him, leering and grinning a smile full of teeth.

Harry didn't stop running, only swerved a wide distance around the man and threw up a shield. Good thing, too, because a street spell that mimicked Muggle bullets hammered against it for a moment and Harry didn't want to think about what damage might've happened had he not thought ahead.

He managed to get a few feet ahead of them before he dared to Apparate a few blocks over to the alleyway where the other three were hiding in. He appeared with a crack and then darted past the protective spells Hermione had laid around the alleyway. Panting, he was gratified to see Nico emerging from the tent as he arrived, frowning.

"What's up?" the demigod asked, concerned.

Harry's face was flushed and sweating from running so quickly and then subsequently Apparating. "Snatchers," he managed to crack. "'S time to leave again."

Nico blinked before giving a growl of frustration and ducking his head inside the tent to shout at Hermione and Ron.

"Time to move out, you two!" he yelled. "Snatchers caught Harry again!"

There was a muffled reply and the sound of scrambling inside the tent before Ron and Hermione came out, hoisting a backpack and a duffle bag onto their shoulders.

"Again?" Ron said loudly, watching as Hermione took out her wand and folded up the tiny tent, putting the white square of cloth into her beaded bag. "That's, what, twice now?"

Harry didn't deign this with a reply, only shook his head and held out his hand for Nico to shadow-travel them.

Harry was still only sixteen years old and wouldn't be rid of the Trace until the thirty first of July, the day he turned seventeen. The Trace was the tracker spell implanted on all magical children that allowed the Ministry to keep tags on who broke the rule of not performing magic in the summer holidays. It was taken off as soon as Hogwarts students were of age. Luckily, it was still technically the school year, so no one was monitoring them yet. There was still a chance of the DEs finding them, though, through Harry using magic.

Nico, however, wasn't a wizard. He was a demigod who used magic, yeah, but only because he was gifted it by Hecate. That meant he wasn't in the Ministry of Magic's archives.

The only one who would be able to Trace him would be Hecate and after that close call with Voldemort kidnapping her, he doubted she'd leave Olympus for anything less than an absolute emergency.

They shadow-traveled to a Muggle suburb, in front of a line of near identical Muggle houses, squashed together like apartment complexes; from the stench of gasoline in the air, Harry guessed they were in Muggle London. He squinted at the houses they were front of, recognizing the street as Grimmauld Place.

Nico turned to him, smiling at the slack jawed expression Harry was wearing at the moment. "Figured this was a good place to hide," he said nonchalantly.

Harry abruptly grinned, clapping Nico on the back enthusiastically. "Wicked, Nico. This is perfect."

There was an audible 'SMACK' as Hermione slapped her own forehead. "Of course," she groaned. "Grimmauld Place, why didn't I think of that?"

"Nobody's perfect," Nico comforted, just the smallest bit satisfied with himself.

…

Grimmauld Place was freaking creepy.

Nico discovered that as he crept through the dim lighted entry way. He'd only shadowed here when he remembered Harry off-handedly mentioning the address to him in the middle of the school year. He thought it be a good place to hide, but looking around at the dusty interior, he was almost tempted to go back out and try his luck with the Death Eaters.

The floor was covered with a threadbare rug that had been worn thin long before any of them had even heard of the place and the gas lamps lighting the corridor flickered hesitantly, as if they were unsure whether or not they wanted to be lit. The wallpaper was dirty and peeling and Nico thought he saw questionable stains lining the crease where floor met wall. A chandelier, heavily webbed with spider string, glittered half-heartedly above head and the walls were home to several whispering portraits, pale faced men and women staring at them judgingly.

All in all, the perfect material for a haunted house.

Nico stepped forward, feeling the others do the same, and tilted his head as he heard something fall noisily from deeper within the house.

Harry started beside him. "No one's supposed to be here," he murmured.

"Nothing ever happens as it's supposed to," Ron said darkly, already moving through the narrow hallway and towards whoever was making the clatter.

"**THIEF!" **shrieked a voice.

They all jumped, eyes wide and confused.

Harry said "Kreacher! It's Kreacher—!" but he didn't get to finish as he was interrupted by another scream, filled with such vitriol and fury they found themselves taking a few steps back.

"**FILTHY BLOODED THIEF, STANDING AND BEFOULING THESE HALLS! STEALING, PILFERING THE BLESSED ANTIQUITIES OF OUR HOME!"**

There was a loud clang that had them wincing.

**"GIVE IT BACK, GIVE IT BACK, MUDMAN!"**

"Sounds like whoever Kreacher is, he caught us a thief," Nico mused.

Harry's face hardened and just as he was about to take off down the hall, a blur of dirty robes and stubby limbs bolted out of the many doors in the hallway and slammed into the opposite wall in its haste to get out.

Harry whipped out his wand and pointed it. "Stop!"

A man, a short dumpy wizard with a grizzled chin and hands full of a burlap bag, stared at them, wide-eyed with shock.

Harry lowered his wand, though only minutely. "Mundungus?" he asked, confused. "Mundungus Fletcher?"

Fletcher smiled uneasily. "'Ello, boys," he said and, finding Hermione with his eyes, added "and girly."

Hermione glared, unamused. "What are you doing here?" she hissed. "Headquarters was supposed to be evacuated ages ago!"

Fletcher shifted, uncomfortable. He opened his mouth to say something, but a creature with a thin, long snout and angry, spitting eyes abruptly popped into the room.

Harry stared at Kreacher, who was trembling with righteous anger.

"**THIEF!" **Kreacher yelled. He was waving a large, iron skillet above his head, cheeks puffed out with rage, eyes bulging. Harry watched, shocked, as the house-elf took the frying pan and repeatedly slammed it on Fletcher's stunned head.

"Ow!" cried Fletcher, dropping the burlap bag and Nico narrowed his eyes when he heard the clang of delicate metals from it. "Ow, ow, ow!"

Nico stepped up, ignoring the two grappling on the sidelines and he picked up the bag, peeling it open and raising an eyebrow at the glint of gold and silver.

"Ow—put that down—ow, stop that!—lad, put the bag down, 's mine—OUCH!" Fletcher untangled himself from the irate Kreacher and stumbled over to Nico.

The demigod shot him a look, like, 'cut the crap' and stepped away from the wizard. He wrinkled his nose. The man reeked like stale whiskey and unfiltered cigars.

"Yo," he said, staring at Fletcher. "Recognize any of these, Harry?" He tossed the sack to Harry, who caught it.

They watched as Harry's eyes darkened and his lip curled angrily. "Mundungus," Harry murmured. "Why do you have Black family heirlooms stuffed into a bag?"

Mundungus grunted something under his breath as Kreacher smacked his knee with his skillet again. "What'ya expect from me, boy?" Fletcher asked, nose twitching unpleasantly. "'M just a poor man lookin' for a few extra Knuts. It's not like ol' Sirius would'a minded anyways. He hated everything 'bout this bloody place, wouldn't have made a difference whether a few trinkets 'ad gone missin'."

The muscles in Harry's jaw rippled and he roared something indiscernible and Nico tugged Ron and Hermione into the nearest door he could find.

"Pro'lly don't wanna get caught up in that," said Nico sarcastically and Hermione smacked his shoulder, fuming.

"Nico," she chided, before knocking his restricting hand aside and marching back into the hallway. "We're not leaving Fletcher to die because Harry lost his temper!"

"Was worth a shot," Nico mumbled under his breath and he watched as Ron and Hermione pulled Harry's shaking form away from Fletcher's cowering one.

"'M sorry, 'm sorry, I just wanted a few—" Fletcher crowed, bruises lacing his jaw and eyes.

"Yeah, yeah, shut up, Fletcher," Nico interrupted, rolling his eyes. "We know you're only sorry 'cause you got caught."

Fletcher straighted from his doubled over position and Nico watched, unimpressed, as the man dusted off his coat's shoulders. "Can't blame meh," Fletcher said, glaring with murky, bloodshot eyes. "'S hard tah make a Sickle anymore with all these new regulations that chit with the bow put up in the Ministry. I jus' got desperate, is all. Nothin' wrong with a man stealin' to put some bread in his mouth, is there?"

"When you steal from a dead man, don't expect any sympathy from me," Nico said dryly, shoving his hands into his jean pockets. "Sirius left everything he owned to Harry Potter. You steal from here, you're stealin' from him."

Mundungus trembled under Nico's cold look. "Oh," the man croaked and Hermione shot him with a Full Body-Bind Curse before he could run.

She sniffed. "Rat."

"What'd he mean?" Harry asked, somewhat calmer now that Mundungus was lying flat on his face on the floor. "About Ministry regulations?"

"I'm guessing Voldemort works faster than we thought he would…" Nico said.

Ron grunted. "Dad said it was like that the first time—before Voldemort became You-Know-Who and started up the first war, he had a lotta supporters in the Ministry. People started pushing all these bills about Muggleborns and what they could and couldn't do. They had to wear these things on their clothes—eight pointed stars, so people could tell whether they were '_clean'_ or not."

"That's awful," Hermione said, face white.

Nico frowned. "That's sounds like what happened in World War II. With the Jews and the Nazis."

"Yeah," Harry murmured, clutching the bag of goodies Fletcher had been about to get away with. He sat on the floor and Kreacher, who'd been watching them with suspicious, bulging eyes, gave a horrible shriek of outrage.

"Nasty, ugly Boy-Who-Lived, friend of mudmen and blood traitors, oh, if only Mistress knew," Kreacher moaned, tugging on his wrinkled ears angrily. "Letting in awful excuse for a thieving wizard, leading blood traitors to Mistress's sacred house…"

"Oh, shut up," Nico said. "Harry's your master now, might learn to show a little respect."

"Awful, drooling excuse for a Master," sneered Kreacher and his face became vulgar when he looked at Hermione and Nico. "With rude little boys for friends and filthy mudblooded girls for—"

"Finish that sentence and I just might have to kill you, Kreacher," Ron said icily and Kreacher hunched down amiably, expression innocently open.

"We stopped Fletcher from stealing anything, didn't we?" Nico said lightly. "Your old Mistress's things might've been lost if it hadn't been for us."

Kreacher made a snuffling noise and turned up his ridiculously long nose. "Failure for wizards you be..." he started.

Harry just shook his head and dumped the contents of the bag onto the floor.

Kreacher screamed in horror and Nico grabbed the thing's arm before he could leap on Harry. "Nooo!" Kreacher wailed horribly. "Mistress and Master's belongings, soiled by nasty, Muggle loving Harry Potter, nooo, nooo—"

It was like a treasure trove, all of it considered valuable and delicate. Cold, metal necklaces and dangling, diamond earrings, music boxes encrusted with gems and jewels, glass little amulets carved and hung on threaded leather, golden silverware embossed with the Black family crest…

Anything and everything you'd find in an obnoxiously rich, pureblooded home.

A distant ringing was starting in his ears and Harry shook his head, frowning. It was getting louder though and Harry felt something hot and cool burn inside his scar. It wasn't like when Voldemort invaded his mind; that was a quick, stab of agony and flashes of color and illogical rage.

This was so different—a cold and sweet pain throbbing in his head, like he'd gotten brain freeze, the taste of something sticky and tacky rolling over his tongue.

His hands closed around a golden locket, cold and heavy in his hands and Harry recognized it vaguely from fifth year when he and the Weasleys were cleaning out one of the many parlor rooms. It was the locket none of them could open.

"No…"

It couldn't be that easy.

"What? What?" Ron asked, cluelessly as Hermione gasped and her eyes went wide.

"Well," said Nico, as Harry began to pale. "I knew it was a good idea to come here."

…

The elation of actually finding one of the Horcruxes with so little effort only lasted for so long.

They had let Mundungus Fletcher go soon after finding the locket and that had proved to be a mistake.

The Daily Prophet's headline the next day blared **Public Enemy N****0****1 Hiding In Deceased Godfather's House!**

Harry colored the air of the kitchen blue with the amount of swearing he did in the next five minutes, slamming a fist down on the dining table.

Kreacher snickered from his corner and suddenly, Nico'd had enough.

He grabbed the House-elf by the scruff of his neck and shook him hard.

"You've lived in this house for so long," he murmured, plucking the Horcrux from the table and dangling it in front of the elf's bulging eyes. "What do you know of this locket?"

Kreacher pursed his lips tightly before saying slyly "Master's friends have very bad tempers indeed, don't they? Foolish wizards, sneaking little blood traitors, thinking they can only demand and never give—"

"This locket," said Nico, dropping the elf, "Is something that needs to be destroyed. If we don't wipe it out, we all die." Nico lowered his head to look the house-elf in the eye. "But then again, you'd like that, wouldn't you?"

Kreacher's face twisted. "Filthy demigod lies. Kreacher tried, didn't he, Kreacher tried for years and years to destroy the locket, but he couldn't. No matter how hard Kreacher tried, the locket stayed untouched." He scowled. "If Elf magicks can't dent the locket, no wizard magicks can. Fool's errand, Harry Potter is after a fool's errand."

"Who told you," Hermione whispered. "Who told you to get rid of it, Kreacher?"

Kreacher rounded on her, eyes spitting fire. "Kreacher does not talk to lowly, dirty mudblooded girls, Kreacher is a clean elf—!"

"Answer her," Harry said quietly and the room stilled. "Answer her, Kreacher."

The elf's nostrils flared, but he hissed, reluctantly "Master Regulus was a kind master, followed the old ways, knew not to consort with Muggle filth, not like Sirius Black. Sirius Black broke Mistress's heart. But Master Regulus was angry and scared of his Master, the Dark Lord. Before Harry Potter, bold as brass, took the Dark Lord's life, Master Regulus went and stole a locket from a cave."

"A cave?" Harry interrupted, confused.

Kreacher jerked a nod. "A cave, Harry Potter, a horrible place and poor Master perished there, cold and alone in the dark. He ordered poor Kreacher away, told Kreacher to destroy the locket, to never stop trying."

Kreacher licked his cracked lips. "Kreacher failed. Kreacher tried and tried for weeks and months and years, no matter how hard Kreacher tried, Kreacher always failed. Master Regulus's locket never broke." He gave them a withering look. "And now Harry Potter wants to destroy the locket just as Kreacher had and Potter will fail just as Kreacher had."

Nico grinned viciously as he said "Thank you, Kreacher, for that note of confidence."

Harry was frowning and he didn't say anything as Kreacher sneered and disappeared with a pop. He slid out a chair from underneath the table and sank into it, pulling up his legs and folding them under him.

"Well, that was disturbing," Ron grumbled and Harry barked a hollow laugh.

The Boy-Who-Lived placed his head in his hands and his forehead wrinkled in concentration. "Dumbledore's notes," he began. "They said a Horcrux might've been hidden in a cave near the sea. Tom Riddle went there when he was child and traumatized a couple kids who liked to bully him in the orphanage he grew up in."

Nico arched an eyebrow. "Never thought the Dark Lord would be a sentimental man."

"He's not," Harry murmured. "He likes to remember his victories, though and I'm guessing this is his way of gloating."

"Kreacher couldn't kill it," Hermione mused. "Not even with house-elf magic."

Harry's face was grim. "It's not impossible to destroy a Horcrux. It's just very hard. You have to _kill_ it and make sure the damage is so permanent, not even magic can save it."

"Wow," said Ron. "Sounds bloody hard, though."

Harry's lips thinned. "Maybe," he said instead of 'yeah' and Nico's eyes narrowed.

…

Harry looked really bad with the locket around his neck. It was a heavy, bulky thing with a green, serpentine 'S' embossed on the cold surface and the chain was so long Harry had to wrap it twice around his neck, leaving a cold loop of chain tight against his throat while the locket dangled in the middle of his chest.

Somehow, with the thing hanging around his neck, he looked so pale and fragile, like a doll. He'd curl up in a cushioned armchair, eyes green and large in his too-white face and his forehead would furrow painfully. He breathed through his mouth, his lips forming a dark, cracked 'o' as he dragged in air like it was physically taxing to actually breathe. He seemed smaller, his wrists and arms thin and bony and delicate, not like the hero-boy Nico had gotten to know over the months, not like the determined Boy-Witch who did what needed to be done when it came to saving a life.

He looked like a paper doll, like he'd blow away if he weren't weighted down at the shoulders, like he'd burn up at the touch of sunlight if he weren't wearing so many layers.

Hermione and Ron had been pouring over Dumbledore's notes, looking for something plausible and close-at-hand to destroy the locket, which was a taxing job, but Harry didn't seem fit enough to help and Nico wouldn't leave him alone in case the locket decided it wanted to choke him.

"Nico," he croaked two days after they'd came to Grimmauld Place, back straight as he toyed with the Horcrux almost incessantly. "I need you a second, please."

Nico looked at the other boy quietly from his book. He was only a few yards away across the room, on a plush rocking chair. "Yeah, sure, what is it?"

Harry's throat bobbed as he swallowed. "I've been thinking, lately and I think I know how to kill it, the Horcrux," he said almost eagerly, glassed eyes hooded. His tongue moistened his lips and a flush was starting to appear in the high of his cheeks.

Nico nodded, wary, sitting up a bit now. "Okay, I'm listening. How?"

"The Killing Curse," Harry breathed and Nico shuddered. "No, wait," said Harry before Nico could protest. "Look, I know it's not the most moral of ways to get rid of it, but desperate times call for desperate measures, Nico, right? And nothing can stop the Killing Curse; there's no shield or cure and it'll only take a second for it to work. It's the only sure-fire way to get rid of it."

His eyes were bright and wild by the end of his speech and Nico was thoroughly spooked.

"No," he said. "I don't think that's a good idea, Harry."

Harry sat up sharply, eyes slitted. "Why not?" Harry asked, frowning. "It's foolproof!"

"You have to mean it," Nico snapped, finding himself a little flustered now. "To cast something like that, you have to hate, Harry and we both know you don't actually want to do that."

"What makes you say that?" Harry snapped back and suddenly they were both on their feet and _wow, that escalated fast_ floated through Nico's thoughts, but he couldn't reel himself in. "You don't know, maybe I hate him so much, I actually wanna kill him," continued Harry carelessly, his teeth white and sharp in the ugly snarl he was wearing.

This wasn't Harry.

"Because," Nico spat, moving a bit forward so he was towering over Harry, even though they were both basically the same height. "_I know you_, Harry, whether you think I do or not, so shut up and stop talking like a Death Eater. You can't kill anything in cold blood like that, and I don't care what you think you can do, either way it's too risky—you'd just end up killing yourself, because you wouldn't mean it."

"You—you don't know anything, di Angelo," Harry growled, going red over his cheeks and the bridge of his nose. "You don't know anything, for Merlin's sake, the only reason you're even hear is because we 'need your input', whatever the hell that means. You don't belong here, di Angelo and maybe you should stop being such a pretentious little Muggle and actually listen to what other people have to say before you go off and get us all killed," and there was so much genuine anger in his eyes that Nico reached out and couldn't stop himself.

He ripped off the locket so harshly up and over Harry's head, a bit of the chain got stuck on his ear and sliced a small cut in his lobe, a shivering drop of blood falling onto the floor.

Harry immediately gasped like someone had punched him in the gut and he couldn't get his breath back; he swayed, a nauseous expression coming to his face and Nico touched his shoulder, a grounding touch.

"Merlin," he said, his face white and "Nico, I—"

"It's okay," Nico said firmly and he felt the locket, heavy and hot in his hands, vibrate almost angrily. He nearly threw it away from himself before he reigned in his emotions and flung it onto the armchair. "You didn't mean any of it. It was Riddle talking, not you."

Harry gave a wounded sound and his eyes were large and panicked. "It did something," he said, horrified and slightly disgusted. "To me, I mean, it did something. I didn't take it off this entire time, ever since two days ago and—" He sucked in a breath. "I was—it wasn't like the visions, it was sneakier than that and…"

"It's fine," said Nico, watching as Harry sat down shakily in front of him.

Harry breathed an expletive, and his eyes were staring, morbidly fascinated, at the locket. "We really need to do this quickly, don't we?"

...

**Booka: I really like this one, sue me. Harry's going through a bit of an existential crisis at the moment, don't mind him. *grins* I've got a bit of a surprise in store for you guys, don't you wait. **

**Leo: *throws confetti* WOOHOO!**

**Nico: *frowns***

**Booka: Um, Nico?**

**Nico: What. **

**Booka: Why are you wearing a party hat?**

**Nico: *glowers* Four hundred and eighty-five reviews, that's what. Leo's 'celebrating'. **

**Booka: You guys are the most awesomest followers ever! I never imagined so many people would enjoy reading this and the fact that so many of you have reviewed just makes me cry. You're all so lovely and nice and supportive and you really do have good advice that I appreciate. I know I'm like the most horrible person when it comes to replying, but that doesn't mean I don't appreciate each and every one of you. **

**Leo: Uh oh, she's gonna cry!**

**Nico: Please review everybody, it does wonders for her self esteem. *Rolls eyes* Can I go home now?**


	25. The Man in the Golden Locket

The Man in the Locket

_The boy was weighed down with rusted chains, sitting on a blood-encrusted floor, wrists and feet bolted to the ground by bands of metal. His head was bowed, a mess of black strands and matted dirt, and what skin Harry could see was smudged with filth. He was thin, and tall, so perhaps he wasn't a boy, maybe he was a man, Harry couldn't tell. He was dressed in rags, brown and grey cloth that was torn and dirty. He was a tragic figure, only lit by the flicker of a small kerosene lantern mounted to the wall. _

_The man's head lifted and wine-red eyes stared at him. _

"_Help me," he said, and his voice was low and quiet. "Open the locket. Help me."_

…

Harry jerked awake, panting. He flailed for a moment, before reality came rushing back in and he realized it was just a dream.

There was a thin layer of sweat beading on his upper lip and he could feel small drops sliding down his neck and into the curve of his collarbones.

The room was dark, it being night still, and Harry sighed, dragging a hand through sleep-mussed hair. Ever since his little episode the previous day, Nico had been adamant about separating him and the locket—but now, the thing was whispering to him in his sleep, even as it lay innocently out of sight in the kitchen, covered with wrappings and stuffed firmly in a silverware drawer.

Harry had been sleeping in a rather warm guest bedroom on the other side of the house, but apparently Horcruxes were deceptive things that could crawl into a person's head and never come out.

Harry stood, peeling off his clingy pajamas and pulling on an oversized t-shirt and some light sweatpants, a strange chill rushing over him as he stumbled out of bed and towards the large vanity in the corner of the bedroom. He reached out, blind in the dark and fumbled for the walls, walking drunkenly over to the desk and palming over the wood, rolling his hand over his wand.

He stilled when he felt cold metal.

"What? _Lumos," _and a bright light flickered at the end of his wand, pooling light onto a gleaming necklace.

His face went white and he stumbled backwards, staring.

There it was, gold and glittering, flashy and awful—

He heard the distinct click and turn of a heavy lock and he swung around, turning to face the wooden door, which seemed to stare at him innocently. He moved away from the vanity, quickly and he clutched at the doorknob, twisting and pulling and banging on the wood of the door. It wouldn't open.

"_Alohomora!" _he yelled and tapped his wand against the keyhole. Nothing happened—he only felt a faint buzz in the air around him and a strange wind-like sensation, like something was physically sucking the spell away. His heart rate skyrocketed and he knew whatever was happening only spelled trouble for him.

"My, my, my," said a silken voice and Harry whipped around. "In need of a little help there, friend?"

_Bombarda! _The spell was more thought than yelled and he didn't even need to flick his wand in his moment of panic.

The vanity splintered, a vicious crack going straight down the middle of it, breaking the entire thing in two.

A strange silence settled over the two of them for a moment.

"Hmm," hummed the same person, tone considerate. "You _are_ powerful. And here I was thinking you were naught but the pretty-face of this little rebellion."

But Harry didn't care about those petty ideas and he stalked towards where he thought the voice was coming from, shining light onto empty carpet and air. "Who are you?" Harry asked, forcefully. "Where are you?"

"Now, now," continued the other boy—for the voice was a male, considering its depth. "No need to be so hostile. I'm simply visiting, after all, and that's no way to treat a guest. Though, perhaps I'm not as welcome as I'd like to think."

Harry felt an angry flush come up to his cheeks and the kerosene lamps in the room flickered for a minute with his temper. He saw a flash of dark curls and pale, red-rimmed eyes, before the light dimmed down again.

Cold fingers, sneaky and deft, prodded at his collarbone and Harry hissed and leapt back, stumbling in the dark.

"Temper, Harry Potter," admonished Tom Riddle—for it was Tom Riddle, just as dark and as handsome as his journal Horcrux had been, if not a bit older. "You wouldn't want your magic to get the best of you, now would you?"

"Stop playing games," Harry said.

"Oh," Riddle chuckled. "But you're oh-so-fun to play with, Harry."

Harry growled, and tried to move away, but hands, strong as a vice, grabbed his wrists and reeled him in. He felt Riddle shake with amusement and fury burnt through his blood.

"Let me go!" he shouted. "Let me go—!"

Ice crept up his spine suddenly, as his scar flared up and buzzed hotly and his jaw clicked shut.

"How about," mused the Horcrux coolly, "no." It wasn't a question.

The desk lamp suddenly flashed on and Riddle was a tangible wall, caging Harry in, looming closer and eyes flickering from sky to wine and back again.

"Now," he whispered, breath wet and cold on Harry's cheek. "What is it, exactly, that makes you _so_ _special; _special enough to draw the Dark Lord's attention, hmm?"

Icy fingers grabbed his chin and—

BANG!

Harry, in his flailing panic, threw out a burst of magic, of wild, angry power and Riddle was thrown back, arms flung out, into the opposite wall, colliding with cement in the most painful of ways.

Harry expected to see blood, or a painful bruise blooming across the thing's cheek, but the man only twitched for a moment and stood gracefully; skin just as flawless as before.

"Oh, my mistake," mocked the man, his voice amused and strangely more sinister than it had been before. "You're a clever little boy, aren't you?"

Harry scrambled away as Riddle cracked his neck loudly and stalked forward, eyes glinting with an emotion that Harry did not like the look of.

"Harry?!"

He turned his head away from the Horcrux, eyeing the door.

Nico yelled again. "Harry! What's going on—?"

"Uh, uh, uh," chided Riddle and he was right there, in Harry's face again. "How rude of you, ignoring your guest. After all, you are supposed to be providing the entertainment, aren't you, Harry?"

"GET OUT OF MY HEAD!" Harry screamed and pushed at Riddle, who was like an immovable block of stone. "Get away!"

Nico was banging at the door eagerly now, voice pitched with worry. "What's in there, Harry?"

"I'm not special!" he yelled passionately. "I'm just a kid!"

"I don't think I believe you," muttered Riddle. "I think you're something interesting; something weird and strange and freakish—why else would he choose to torment you for all these years? Why else would _I_ decide to torment you for all your life?"

The door flung open, banging against the wall, and Nico burst in, eyes wild and strange, his sword, the blade black as ever, swinging through the air.

"Harry," he said, eyeing the unknown man suspiciously. "Who's he?"

Riddle hissed, angrily, and turned back to the other wizard. "Don't worry," he said, grimly. "We'll be seeing each other quite soon, brother-mine," and he disappeared in a cold wind that sent shivers crawling over Harry's skin.

…

The chocolate was hot and steaming in the mug and Harry's stomach roiled at the thought of drinking it.

Hermione was sitting next to him, face drawn and pale, her head cradled in her hands, elbows resting on the kitchen's table. Nico and Ron were arguing near the door, arms gesticulating and expressions red with anger. They were all still clothed in their pajamas and the sky outside was still black with night.

Tension was curling throughout the room and Harry felt like vomiting.

"…no point in going out anymore, the Death Eaters know we're here," Nico was saying, almost spitting with fury. "I've seen them creeping around outside, on the street—don't tell me you didn't notice them…"

"Even more reason for us to leave," Ron insisted, forcefully. "If Riddle's here, right now, with us," and Ron waved around them wildly, indicating the entire house, "then we have to go! If You-Know-Who finds out where we are—"

Nico interrupted before he could get out another word. "You don't understand!" And he held up the locket, clutched tightly in a white knuckle, shaking it in the other boy's face. "This _is_ You-Know-Who! Wherever we go, we'll just take him with us, won't we? 'Cause, we need to find a way to _kill_ it, remember!"

And he pushed away from Ron, stalking towards one of the kitchen cupboards. He ripped open the door of the cabinet and took out an old, empty jam jar, clouded with dust and grime. Uncaring of the dirt, he wrenched open the lid and threw in the locket, a clang ringing throughout the room from metal hitting heavy glass. It sounded weirdly finite.

He screwed the top back on tightly and slammed the thing onto the table, making Hermione jump.

"We can't leave," Nico seethed. "But we can make it so he can't, either."

Hermione met his steady gaze and took out her wand from within her long sleeves, hands shaking.

"I know you looked up different kinds of spells," Nico said, voice oddly detached and cold. "Use the one you showed me."

The girl looked from him to the locket and back again before she raised her wand and murmured something indecipherable under her breath, tapping her wand on the glass.

Chains of light, glinting fiery scarlet and rippling turquoise, wrapped around the jar, pulsing a thick rhythm in the room. It was a hot wave of magic and Harry shivered as it washed over him. It wasn't like anything he'd ever felt before.

A strange, painful buzzing started up in his scar again.

"He won't be going anywhere, now," Nico said icily, and he turned on his heel to leave.

"What was that?" Harry asked tightly.

Hermione looked with a clenched jaw at the jar, which was trembling slightly on the table.

"It—there were other books with the notes Dumbledore left behind," she finally said when the silence had stretched so long, so tightly Harry was afraid it would snap. "Books that shouldn't have even been present in the school, to be honest." Her voice faltered. "When I brought them to Nico, he just… He said to bring them with us."

Ron had moved into the kitchen by now, arms crossed and staring at her. "What?"

Hermione shrugged defensively and clasped her hands around her hot chocolate, swallowing nervously. "He said… he said we might need them," and her voice held a sting that Harry had heard before—when she was frustrated, but knew what she was doing was right. "And, when I looked one of them over… that spell was in there."

"You brought books on the Dark Arts with us because Nico said we might need them," Ron intoned blankly and there was a twisting of his features that spoke volumes of the things he thought about that.

"Well, he was right, wasn't he?" Hermione said stiltedly, running a hand through her wild hair. "If I didn't—If I hadn't known that spell, who knows what Riddle would've done?"

"Hermione," Ron hissed. "The Dark Arts? The _Dark Arts?"_

"Yes, Ronald," she spat, rising from the table. Her eyes were sparking angrily and she rounded on him. "The Dark Arts—I know what you're thinking, but you're wrong. You always have been."

A sharp stab of pain shot through Harry's head and he clamped a hand over his mouth to catch a loud grunt from escaping his mouth.

"—there's a limit, Hermione! When it comes to Black Magic, there are things we can't do! A line we can't cross!"

"A line!" she yelled, going pink high in her cheeks with anger. "What line? What line, Ron? We're in a _war_, dear Merlin!" Her fingers came up, clutching at handfuls of bushy hair, frizzy from sleep and stress.

Another shard of pain, fizzling across the expanse of his forehead blocked out the rest of her words. He let out a puff of air and put his head in his hands, trembling.

Something pricked at the back of his mind and then—

_Sizzling chains, wrapping around his arms and shoulders, tying down his legs and feet, dragging him acros r…_

He dragged himself above a rushing current of sensation that wasn't his, gasping and shaking.

"—KNOW, HERMIONE, I KNOW!" Ron was screaming at her from across the room, fists turning white from being clenched so hard and ears and face flushed a bright red. "You don't think I don't care people are dying out there—?!"

The sounds blurred and slowed around him, curving and swirling in his ears and he plugged his fingers in them, dropping his head

_This time, he wasn't being dragged across the ground, he was holding a wand—a cruel looking thing that Harry didn't recognize, carved delicately and cold to touch. His hands, spidery, pale and long, were wrapped around it, little sparks shooting from his wand. _

"_Your compliance is heavily appreciated," he laughed, voice high and cold. _

_His words were directed at a blue-eyed old man sitting across from him at a dining table. He was wrapped in dark robes, his wizened beard tucked into his belt, his wrists dangling off the arms of a wooden chair. His skin was wrinkled from age, wizened little glasses perched on the bridge of his crooked nose, but his eyes were wiser still. _

_Albus Dumbledore's spectacles glinted angrily, and he said "Compliance or not, you'll never win, Tom."_

_A flare of hothothot anger and resentment and _slow_-_burninghatred_ shot through his veins when Dumbledore said that name because how dare he? How dare he shove something so far away back into the spotlight when he'd work so hard to forget that? He'd worked so hard to build something of himself. _

_And now this man wanted to tear him down. _

_He was still talking. "You know it just as well as I, Tom. Even if you succeed in bringing Britain to her knees, she has more allies than you could ever hope to fight."_

_A wriggling cold insect of madness was crawling across his head—No, never going to stop, Headmaster, he was thinking, it's never going to end. It'll never truly end, not until I see the world burn. Not until every single unworthy Mudblood is six feet below the ground, cold and dead—not until this wretched country finally shows the respect I deserve, the respect that should've been mine the day I stepped into that wretched castle._

_But he didn't say those things, because it wasn't befitting a King to lower himself to talk to equally to a mere peasant. And he was a King—a God, amongst cavemen. _

_He only smiled faintly at the old man. "If you think something so cryptic is going to deter me from my task, than this shall be easier than I predicted," he intoned slyly instead of those slimy thoughts swirling in his head. _

_Dumbledore shook his head grimly. "You will fall, Voldemort, as Grindlewald fell before you."_

"_I doubt it," and confidence, thick and rich, surged through him, straightening his shoulders and curling his lip in an expression of anticipation. "I will enjoy ripping into the corpse of your beloved castle, Albus, and watching your expression once I tell you the details of your Chosen One's death."_

_Something black and unsettling fell over the man's face and a little curl of sensation that Voldemort refused to acknowledge as uncertainty tickled quietly at the edge of his mind. "You will never touch him," and there was such steel in the man's voice that it gave him pause, if only for a moment. "And you couldn't even hope to catch sight of Hogwarts—her distaste for you is too great for you to even ruin a brick of her magnificence."_

_Voldemort laughed; Albus could be quite amusing at times. "Perhaps I could be more merciful to your precious students if told me where the rest of the Hallows,"—he shook the wand for emphasis—"were? After all, I know you love a decent, fair bargain, don't you, Headmaster?"_

"_Tom," Dumbledore said calmly "We know that even if I gave them to you, that even if you promised to stay away from the castle, you'd just go ahead and slaughter the entirety of Hogwarts anyway. You have no regard for human life and I doubt the temptation of those 'dirty-blooded' children would pass from your mind." He smiled, bitterly. "I would truly be a fool to take you up on anything you had to offer. The Hallows are not meant for you, nor for any man."_

"_And here I was thinking you'd do anything to preserve your lovely little children's lives," Voldemort said coolly. "My mistake."_

"_It wouldn't be protection," Dumbledore said. "It would be damnation."_

"_You don't know that for sure," Voldemort retorted, grinning. _

"_You never could refuse a challenge," was the dry reply. _

"_No, I suppose not," he admitted, looking around with a low breath. "I'll just have to live with the satisfaction of Harry Potter's death, now won't I?"_

_Dumbledore leveled a serious gaze at the Dark Lord. "I fear you are more correct than you could ever understand," and there was such a layer of grief to his quiet voice that He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named fell quiet and bemused. _

"_And Harry," Dumbledore called and Voldemort looked up, frowning in bewilderment, before he realized, wildly, that the Boy-Who-Lived was _listening_. "Things are not always as Dark as they first appear—rather, the opposite in fact."_

_Voldemort drew in a breath, rage crackling around the man's skull before_

"Harry!"

He was left bereft, pain and heat throwing him back from the table, his legs lashing out as his chair was ripped from underneath him and he was sliding off the table and into isolation. His knees and elbows connected harshly with the floor and he gasped for breath, feeling at the back of his mind

_Muddledinsanity/sizzlingmad/heatrageanger/humiliationdetermination_

And the confusing thoughts of

_**howcouldhebelistening-Ishutdowntheconnection-mustlookintothisfurther-Boy-Who-Won't-Die-I'llkillhim-I'LLKILLHIM**_

He shoved Voldemort away harshly and unintentionally sent a signal of

_Clarity/fear/elation/happiness/hope/intrigue/confusion/anger/thoughtful/violation_

And his thoughts

_**No-DarkLordinmyheadagain-Merlinnotagainpleaseno-Hallows?-Dumbledore'salive!-alive!**_

And then, it was like a door slamming in his mind and even when he reached out tentatively, he only felt a cool wall of isolation and separation between them. It seemed strangely definite. He retreated, shaking.

Voldemort's mind was a place of rage and confusion and insanity—there was no reason, no soundness, only a bitter ambition that swallowed up everything in sight, even that doubled edged intelligence that Tom had so prided himself on. It took a toll on his already stressed mind to be exposed to that so soon and so quickly.

"Harry!"

He started, dragged out of his thoughts and looked up. Hermione was kneeling next to him and so was Ron, eyes wide with concern. The lights were flickering rapidly over their heads and Harry could feel his magic faintly buzzing in his ears, dripping off him in his panic. He fought to control it, to bring it back and subdue it, but he couldn't reach it, couldn't stop shaking.

"Harry," Hermione said, looping his arm over her shoulder to pull him up, Ron taking the other side as they managed to hoist him to his feet, his legs trembling underneath him. They manhandled him into a seat, cold washing him over and over again, gasping. Somewhere, a bulb popped and shattered and a light switched off.

"Are you okay?" Hermione blurted, kneeling next to him.

His skin felt unpleasantly clammy and when a hand pressed itself against his forehead, Ron proclaimed "He's burning hot!"

The trembling was subsiding and his eyes were tearing up, his mouth bleeding because he'd bitten into it so hard. "I'm…" he wanted to say _'fine' _but he couldn't get the breath in his lungs to accurately saying anything other than _'wheeeezeee.'_

"Take a minute," and Nico was standing in the doorway, sword hanging at his belt, a thundercloud on his brow. "Breathe in slowly. Hold it in. Then let it out."

Harry sucked in more air, blinking rapidly, but did what he was told. It worked after a few more breathes, and the dizziness burning underneath his forehead disappeared. The lamps stopped shutting on and off and his magic settled back into his bones like bile in his stomach—unpleasant, but better than the alternative.

"Better, right?"

Harry hummed an agreement.

"Good." Nico sighed, and stepped back into the room fully. "Look, I didn't mean to start an argument, alright? Something needed to get done, though, otherwise that _thing_," here, he shot a look at the chained up jar sitting on the table, "would've gotten out or worse—he could have latched onto Harry."

Ron breathed quietly.

"Taken over him or something… whatever, it doesn't matter. Did you see anything?" He leaned his hip uncomfortably against the table, looking more tired than Harry'd ever seen him.

"Dumbledore's alive," Harry muttered. "He's alive… But Voldemort's got his wand." He leaned back in his chair and pulled his knees up, resting a heavy chin on the caps.

There was a moment of quiet, pulling tight in the air. And then, "Are you sure?" Ron whispered.

Harry hummed an affirmative. "Yes—I was in his head, remember?" His voice wasn't as disturbed as he expected it to be, and he rolled his shoulders, eyes fluttering in thought as he did so.

"What were they doing?" Hermione probed, eyes alight with a mixture of curiosity and concern.

Harry shrugged. "They were just… talking," he said. "About me and the war and Britain." And what a strange conversation, too! Voldemort and Dumbledore, light and dark, speaking together, having an honest to Merlin conversation.

Nico was tearing into his bottom lip with his teeth, hair hanging in front of his eyes. "Nothing specific? Didn't mention where they were, what his plan was?"

The-Boy-Who-Lived crossed his arms and thought, hard. "Said something about…" What was that term again? Voldemort had acted like it was important. To him and to Dumbledore. "H—hallows. Whatever that means."

Nico went white for a moment and swore gently.

"I think it's time we have a talk," he told them, stiffly.

**I am sorry. So sorry, really I am. I don't have any excuses and I'm not gonna give any, because that's not right and it's not fair to you guys. I've been stuck in a rut lately when it comes to writing. Too many ideas and not enough time and anyways, I'm sorry. This chapter, I hope, will make up for my carelessness. **


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